The Woman, Unrequited
by Skullbank
Summary: A retelling of the tale centering around Mrs. Lovett, because somewhere beneath the amorality is a woman who wants love, and children. What if these needs were fulfilled during the events of the play?
1. Chapter 1

The Woman, Unrequited 

(Summary: Sweeney Todd is, despite the crucial role Mrs. Lovett plays, very much about men. As much as I love the musical, the need for a re-telling was gnawing away inside of me –a woman's re-telling. And so Mrs. Lovett tells her story, which is much more riddled with the concerns of a 19th century woman, and the possibilities if she had been given the opportunity to raise Sweeney's second child.)

"Why, there they are both, baked in that pie;

Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,

Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred."

-William Shakespeare, _Titus Andronicus_

_An Epitaph for Mrs. Lovett_

A horrid way to begin telling the tale of Mrs. Lovett would be to start at the beginning, at her birth or before. Because none of that really matters, and who would care? She wasn't evil at conception, whatever you might believe. No, the way I began, and the way I propose to begin now, is by calling her Nellie, so that she's no longer Mrs. Albert Lovett, no longer the extension of a man long dead, who helped create what she became and thus still holds her in his grasp. I'm sure every meat pie was dedicated to him.

One might rebuke, of course, that excuses are fruitless; her soul was open to sin and willing to hate, and for that only she is to blame. But even Witches cry, fear, tear themselves apart from agonies of heart and mind. Maybe if she'd been given a genuine chance to love, she could have done that, too. Perhaps.

We know her story to begin when she meets the provoker of her own self-destruction; this one begins with a different provoker, and the birth of it.

_Chapter 1: Waxen and Spindle_

"Your baby, what're you going to name your baby?"

Nellie bent lower to the woman among the bloodstained sheets, straining to listen for a coherent answer. "God almighty, can't you make some sense for once?" But all that came from Lucy were sharp hisses as she whispered to herself. A slap in the face did no good, so Nellie stood up to address the mid-wife. "How could this happen?"

"I surely don't have to explain how babies come?" the girl replied; though just a teenager she was the only aid Nellie had been able to find.

"No no! This woman has never looked pregnant, even now." She remembered how Lucy had thought she was expecting again, back before Benjamin had been shipped off, but months passed without sign of pregnancy, and they'd decided it wasn't so. How could she mistake a thing like that? And it's what Benjamin believed, what he still believed…

"Well," said the girl, "some women don't show, I suppose, and the baby's rather small." She was still cleaning the thing off as it wailed in her arms. Nellie didn't dare look at it again after her first brief glance. Wouldn't Lucy's poison have affected it? It was too unnatural; this child shouldn't be alive.

Nellie went back to the stairs, eager to be away from the blood and fresh odor of birth. It was too human to be anything but foul. Halfway down the steps, however, she was stopped by the mid-wife's cry.

"Where're you going, miss?" The girl didn't dare stick more than a head and an arm out of the doorframe, but the wind still caught her shawl and whipped it across her face. "What about the baby?"

"What about it?" Nellie paused on the step, turning her head only slightly before continuing.

"You can't just leave me with it! Do you know how many I've already had to leave out with the garbage because nobody'll take 'em? Crying and writhin' like the possessed as they do, it's more than a woman should have to bear."

Nellie Lovett paused again. "Save your pity-pleas, child, I've had my share of babes lost in my arms before they had a start." This made her sigh and place a hand to her chest, but it also made her heart stir. She didn't look up. "What's the poor babe have, anyhow?"

"If you mean man-hood, miss, she hasn't got any. She shares our plight."

Nellie waved off the mid-wife's social commentary as she saw her secret desires flee. "Well, my breasts aren't suited for suckle, anyway; they'd refuse to give from lack of use." She gathered her skirts and took the steps two at a time until she was safely in her kitchen, ignoring the mid-wife's grumblings about reimbursement. Her thoughts racing, Nellie shut the curtains and holed herself up for the evening. Another child, another little Lucy? The very idea was utterly revolting, but… While this one didn't seem to resemble her mother quite as much, it was still female. Could she live with that? Did she want to try?

The next morning there was a sharp rap on her back door. It was so urgent and sudden that Nellie had already dusted flour off her apron and gripped the knob before stopping herself. The rapid knocks came again, rattling the door, followed by some squeaky gasps.

"Mrs. Lovett! Is anyone here? Oh, please, please!"

Nellie considered the voice, patting her thighs and turning away for a moment, but she decided to take her chances. "Yes, hullo? Who's there?" She swung open the door to find a woman nearly hunched over in panic. Her blonde hair made Nellie think it was Lucy standing before her and her breath caught in her throat.

"I'm here to see my cousin Lucy! I heard something terrible happened to her, where is she?"

Nellie's breath came back to her. "Oh… Oh, she's upstairs, dear." She gave the cousin's shoulder a pat, leaving flour residue on her navy mantle. "I'm afraid she's in a sorry state, poor dear. Hasn't stirred an inch all week."

"Please, take me to her!" The cousin gripped Nellie's arm like a sister's, so the two climbed the stairs side-by-side. Nellie took her through the abandoned barber's parlor and into the back bedchamber. Upon seeing Lucy, the cousin gasped and flung herself at the limp form on the bed. "It's me, it's Lillian! Can you hear me, Lucy?" She squeezed her cousin's thin hands, but there was no response. "And where's her baby? Mrs. Lovett, where's Johanna?"

"Oh." Nellie tapped her lips. "Mmm… I'm not quite sure."

Lillian glanced around the room before spotting the child curled up in sleep on the floor. She scooped Johanna up, holding her close as she sat at the end of the bed. Nellie briefly wondered if there was a term for a group of blondes.

"I'll stay here with you, Lucy…" Lillian whispered. "I'll take care of you…"

Nellie took a step back towards the door.

"I'll just leave this here for you." She hooked the key on a nail in the wall. "If you need anything you know where to find me, dear." Lillian only nodded, soothing Johanna as the child began to fuss, so Nellie took her leave and rushed back downstairs. She resisted the urge to sink to the floor as she closed the door behind her.

"Neighbors are more trouble than they're worth," she whispered to herself. "You'd agree if you could." Nellie addressed the infant she'd wrapped up and put to bed on a large sack. Its wrinkled eyes opened a bit to look at her. Lovett smirked to herself. "They can't handle more than one babe, then, can they? I'm doing them a favor."

Mrs. Lovett's pie shop had a bell on the doorframe that jingled as it hit the wood upon every entrance and exit. In theory, it would alert Nellie of customers while she was in the back, but recently it'd lost its ringer and only made a low hollow clunk, which was less affective. Add the fact that a baby was occupying her attention half the time, and it was no small wonder that no one was getting their pies as promptly as they used to. Luckily, many of the women were sympathetic.

"You really ought to hire some help, Mrs. Lovett," Mrs. Johansson told her, holding the infant in exchange for having her pies done on time for once. Nellie snorted.

"I'm barely making enough to keep coals in my oven, and the little one'll need her share of clothes and food before I know it." She waved a cloth furiously over her mixing bowl to shoo the flies away, then went into the back to check on trays of pies that were cooling. She didn't hear the front door open and shut.

"Does she have a name?" Mrs. Johansson called to Lovett, paying no attention to the men who had taken a seat at one of the tables.

"Who?"

"The baby, dear."

"Oh, well, not-" Nellie rushed back out with the baked goods, and nearly toppled over her wooden counter when she saw who else was in the front. "Judge Turpin…" She couldn't think of anything appropriate to say, so she charged Mrs. Johansson for the pies and let the Judge make the first move.

"Are we too late for your noon specials, Mrs. Lovett?" the Beadle asked, doing a poor job of acting nonchalant while another customer was present.

"Well, Beadle Bamford, you're actually a bit early…" She looked at the mixing bowl, forlornly watching the dough stretch and rip as she pulled the spoon out of it. "I haven't quite got them started, yet, I'm afraid. These hectic mornings just spring on me and I lose track of time."

"But, it's four o'clock."

"Can't help that, sir."

"Will you be wanting this back, then?" Mrs. Johansson held out the baby, which Nellie took with a gasp of recognition. She placed her back in the carrier she'd made out of empty sacks and strapped it around her chest.

"A child, Mrs. Lovett?" The Judge finally spoke up. "I hadn't realized you were expecting."

"Well, she's a foundling, poor dear. Abandoned out by the ash-cans not a week ago, she was, and my woman's heart couldn't leave her there."

The Judge hmm'd and nodded as though, by some stretch of the imagination, he could understand. After Nellie's last customer left he stood up resolutely, smoothing the front of his coat jacket as he did.

"And how is Lucy?"

"You're a blunt man, Judge Turpin," Nellie said as a kind of scolding and went back to her dough. "Coming in here and speaking of Lucy like nothing's happened. Don't think she didn't tell anyone before she took that poison." She turned with a strong grip on her mixing spoon, half expecting to see the Judge behind her, but he had just begun to approach the counter. Nellie placed her right hand to the child with an instinct that surprised her, still brandishing the utensil with her other hand.

"Tell me, Mrs. Lovett," said the Judge in a low voice. "How is she? Half-dead?"

"Her pretty little body lives, if that's what you mean, but her mind's as good as dead." Nellie put her spoon aside and sprinkled flour on the counter, dusting off the excess in the Judge's direction. He leaned back a bit and cleared his throat.

"And her daughter?"

"Mother and child are both being nanny'd by some country cousin," Nellie replied, grabbing the amble flesh of dough and smacking it down on the tabletop. As she started kneading it she added, "The women are upstairs right now in case you and-" she lifted her eyebrows suggestively towards the Beadle, "-are both idle."

Turpin's frown twitched lower.

"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Lovett," he said louder than he'd meant to, or perhaps not as loud. "Now, I've been your patron for some time and your services have not gone unappreciated-"

"You make me sound like a lady of the night," Nellie said with a straight face. The Judge groaned deep in his throat, reminded of what he'd had to put up with to get to Lucy.

"Not intentional, of course. But, you see, some of the gossip coming from your store has come to my attention."

"I give my customers the truth when I can afford to, Judge," said Nellie.

"However," said Turpin, "I've heard my own gossip, from a mid-wife."

There was a pause, and Nellie didn't dare look up. "I don't… I-"

"Now don't fret, Mrs. Lovett, I want nothing to do with your child, as you now call her."

"Just because she's not a pretty little thing like Lucy," Nellie exclaimed, almost as a defense. She didn't notice that the infant had started to stir as she placed her hands to it again. "You come in here- you and your men, all of them – with one thing one your minds. And I've given her to you, haven't I? Haven't I?" She blanched with the impending hysteria, and the men grew tense. "You've had your way with Lucy and you still come back, never satisfied while blood still flows through her-"

"Shall I remind you that I can have you put back in jail, Mrs. Lovett? And give you the sentence you had before we made our deal?" The Judge raised his voice over the din the wailing child had created. Nellie instinctly jumped back until the wall stopped her.

"What does it matter what I tell people? Who would believe me?"

"You were told to keep quiet. What if you let slip the whole affair?" He reached over the counter to take a strong grip on Nellie. "If the newspapers made it public, we could both be lynched by your own customers-" What he didn't anticipate, however, was for Nellie to scream and thrash like a fury as soon as he grabbed her. The Judge, usually so unmovable, was absolutely terrified by her hysteria, and Beadle Bamford chose to make a quick and immediate retreat out of the shop.

"In the name of all that is holy!" A piercing voice suddenly shrieked; Lillian had made her way downstairs, unable to ignore the commotion. "Jesus Christ! You're absolutely mad, all of you! Bleedin' mad!" She didn't venture further than the doorway, but her presence was all that was needed to make the Judge back off entirely. He made one last attempt at innocence.

"I'm sorry, madam, there's been a misunderstanding-"

"Get out! Get out of my shop!" Nellie screamed, throwing her mixing bowl at Turpin. It missed completely, but the assault was enough to scare him off. She was still throwing utensils at the door when he was halfway down the street.

"Mrs. Lovett, get a hold of yourself," Lillian said. "You've scared your baby half to death." Nellie responded by shoving Lillian out of her way and fleeing to the backroom, slamming the door behind her.

Lovett collapsed in a chair by the fireplace, the only source of heat indoors. Her throat seemed to close up the harder her chest heaved for air, and the result weakened her consciousness. What might have been five minutes later she was finally aware of the screaming baby in her lap. The only solution she could muster was to unbutton the front of her dress, a process that was still slow and shaky, and offer a breast to the child, who accepted it. Something had snapped within Nellie, and she was suddenly terrified of every element of her life. In the center of it was the little beast who, even now, was sucking the nourishment out of her. How was she supposed to run a business when this child was constantly attached to her? For years to come it couldn't leave her side, requiring attention she wouldn't be able to give. It was overwhelming to know that she had orders to finish, a shop to clean before the morning, diaper cloths to wash, and another sleepless night ahead of her. Nellie hadn't even found time to put some food in herself, and now the paranoid Judge had added another pain to her gut. She leaned her head back and let the tears slide down her temples, slowly dripping into her ears. The panic drained from her eventually, and she was left with a clouded mind.

It was only when she felt a small hand on the tender skin of her breast did she come out of her mental numbness. The babe was already half-asleep, and the fire had grown low. Even her tears had dried. Nellie started to button her dress up just as the door to the shop opened, and the small form of Johanna took a few steps inside. The toddler stopped and stared at Nellie with a finger shyly at her lips, as she always did when they met. When some clunks and scrapes were heard from the front Johanna turned to look back, her fair tangled hair bobbing behind her as she did. A moment later Lillian appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, Mrs. Lovett, I thought you were… Well, you were sitting here so limp, with your eyes open like the dead, I thought you were having some kind of fit." Lillian's voice was as light as Lucy's, but there was a harsh undertone to it, and Nellie wouldn't be surprised if she one day started spouting obscenities. At the moment, her condescending nature alone made Nellie want to break the woman's pretty little nose and pull out every one of her crooked teeth. "I closed up the shop for you, but I can't nanny you, too," Lillian said when Nellie only sighed at her. "So you'd do well to come to your senses."

"That's enough, I'm alright," Nellie finally said in response. She supported the child and stood up slowly, while Lillian continued to watch her.

"I'm going into Wapping tomorrow, and bringing Johanna with me," said Lillian. "I won't bother to ask you to watch Lucy for me, seeing as you can't even handle things down here, but I'm telling you all the same. Come on, dear." She picked up Johanna and carried her back out to the stairs without a backwards glance.

That night, Nellie's body finally forced her into sleep between tending the baby. This made her even drowsier the next morning, and she decided not to bother opening the shop, considering she didn't even have enough coordination to unlock the front door. Her desperate state of mind also kept one thought near- that of the child, and if it should exist or not. Whether her reasoning was in the child's interest or for her own selfish reasons wasn't clear to Nellie, but when she was sure Lillian had left for the day, she went upstairs regardless.

The place was as gloomy and bare as the first time she'd led the cousin up, and Lucy's still body was just as unresponsive. Nellie placed the baby in Lucy's arms, like an offering to a stone idol, and knelt on her knees next to the bed. Lucy's glassy eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.

"Well, Lucy, this is your baby," said Nellie. "You and Benjamin conceived her in this bed, back when you had his passion –when you had everything- but even those memories are probably lost to you." The baby sighed and flexed her fists, and Nellie unconsciously brought a soothing hand to it. "Here's the result, flesh and blood, it is, and I stole it for my own. Don't suppose it did much good, but… She's a good babe, doesn't fuss much; probably'll be a calm thing, like her father."

She couldn't bring herself to say 'would have been.'

The baby stirred in Lucy's cold, nearly lifeless arms as Nellie bent her head to say a prayer. Suddenly, small sounds came from Lucy's lips, incoherent at first, but some became clearly discernable as words. Nellie sat up in breathless terror; what if Lucy was coming to her senses and had heard what she'd said?

"They brought him… frankincense and…" Lucy's voice was barely a sigh. "Myrrh…" She slowly brought her arms closer to the baby, as though she was aware of holding her.

Nellie quickly snatched up the child and held her to her chest, watching Lucy with a frozen stare, but the woman was still once more. That didn't mean anything, Nellie told herself. Just her crazy mutterings…

"Nothing more…" she suddenly heard herself whisper, and was frightened back into consciousness. As Nellie fled the room, Lucy's body convulsed and her spine arched, her chest rising as she clawed at the bedding. The gasps that escaped her throat were nearly anxious, partly mad humor, and in complete desperation.

Nellie stoked her oven's fire furiously with a poker, and when it finally burned decently she slammed the grate shut. She was so close to opening the oven door and throwing the baby in that the veins in her hands ran cold with adrenaline, but she still only stared at the infant dozing on her sacks. _What had Lucy said to it?_ The top of her head prickled. _Myrrh? Did she think the child deserved frankincense and myrrh like baby Jesus? What a queer thing to say… _But now Nellie was pacing furiously around the bake house, stalling any sort of decisive act.

"Don't just stare at me, child," Nellie told the infant. "You got me into this mess. Now you need to get me out of it, Mar-" She paused, a hand at her collarbone. "What a silly thing… I almost called you Mara. That was my cousin's name, you see, but she always complained about it because it meant 'bitter.' Fitting, I suppose…" Nellie took a deep breath, forgetting to breathe during her rambling. "But my Aunt Nettie said it was a word for myrrh. Probably why I thought of it just now."

A log suddenly snapped and sparked in the oven, making Nellie jump, and when she looked back at the baby that word came up in her mind again. Mara.

"Oh, Lord… I've named you, haven't I? Jesus, mercy, what am I supposed to do with you now?"

Mara only sighed with contentment.

As the weeks passed, the baby began sleeping more regularly during the night, which meant everyone else did, too. Life became clearer in Nellie's mind once she wasn't crazed by sleep deprivation, and she decided things would be all right. By now she was used to tending the baby while running the shop, having mastered multi-tasking, and she couldn't fathom why she'd considered giving up Mara before. Nothing could part her from the little darling who made her feel needed for the first time in many years. Even Lillian seemed to be in a better mood, and the two silently reconciled that the trying situations they suddenly found themselves in had created the tension between them. Nellie couldn't say she'd ever felt the tension lift, though, just lessen slightly.

The months went by a day at a time, the second faster than the first. Before she knew it, Mara was no longer helpless and wrinkled but handsome and sitting up on her own, while her dark hair had become nearly reddish. Nellie knew the baby wouldn't grow to resemble her, but maybe if they were both gingers together, none would be the wiser.

Wondering who Mara might become, Nellie's mind spent the daylight hours picturing the Barkers; Benjamin, with his tall, lanky frame, and the dark wiry hair that seemed far too unruly to belong to a barber, and Lucy, who was petite, and a head shorter than Nellie, with a heart-shaped face and overall recessive traits: pale skin, nearly non-existent eyebrows, clear blue eyes, and that hair. It was practically color-less and the men dared to call it gold. But during the night her old fantasies returned and she saw only Benjamin, in greater detail than she would dare without the cover of darkness. Eyes she once thought were dark but had surprised her one day by turning out to be gray flecked with hazel. A somber face, but not from melancholy, just pensive. True, he was a quiet fellow and let on to few folks, but Nellie knew that his kindness ran deep, and his loyalty to Lucy was evident with every glance and touch he had made her way. His skin was neither as pink as Lucy's nor as yellow as her own, but nearly olive like a foreigner's. And his voice… Just thinking about it made her chest flutter and excitement fill the parts of her that made her a woman. Its deepness seemed to belong to a much larger man, and every word was smooth and deliberate, as though he'd rehearsed each one beforehand. And what could come from these two, a man and a woman so different in color temperatures? Already little Johanna was golden and cherub faced like her mother, but that had been evident since she was Mara's age. So, perhaps this one would be a moderate, which was the best Nellie could hope for, ever since the baby had come out disappointingly female.

"Thought I'd find you in here again," Nellie said coyly as the Judge entered her shop one morning, too early for pies, which were always sold at noon. "Just a matter of time, I told myself. What with you passing by the shop every day and night." This was more than true, considering how close Fleet Street was to the Royal Courts of Justice, though it wasn't exactly on the way. "Where's that Beadle of yours, Judge? Tired of coming round here with you every day for half a year?"

Turpin's mustache twitched as he glared at the woman who never addressed him with a respectful 'my Lord' or 'your honor.' He took a breath to speak when, encouraged by her mother's chatter, Mara's squeal punctured the silence from the backroom. The Judge looked over Nellie's shoulder to see the baby on the floor, holding her feet above her as she lay on her back. Lovett watched the man's gaze hawkishly, sensing that it had been held for far too long.

"What've you come for this time?" she snapped.

"Another favor, Mrs. Lovett," said the Judge. "I know our original arrangement's fulfilled, but if a monetary reward interests you…"

"Oh?" Nellie let her bitterness fade as she became receptive once more. Mara squealed again but no one listened. "Well, I haven't failed to do your dirty work for you yet, have I?"

"I notice the nanny's still here, and the child."

"Johanna?" said Nellie. "'Course they are."

"Persuade them to come stay with me; I wish to raise the girl as my own daughter." There was no need to say what had inspired him. Lovett leaned across the counter, sensually excited by a fiendish plot.

"Well, Judge, I can tell you now that she won't take to the idea." She sucked on her bottom lip. "No, not atoll."

"This I know, I've tried it myself, but she'll trust her own neighbor. Just get her to come down and then bring the child yourself. I'll take care of everything else."

Nellie wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she couldn't bring herself to be too concerned.

"You like your women young, Judge?" she added as she turned for the backroom.

"I like them pure, faithful, and silent. Like any man."

Nellie frowned. "The cousin's nearly 30, you know, and I'm younger than her. But, I suppose that's the only condition I meet, right? For any man, I mean."

"I have no time for idle chatter, Mrs. Lovett."

"No, don't suppose you do…" Nellie sighed and shut the door behind her, to separate the Judge from her own Mara.

Was she so desperate? She'd practically thrown herself at him, only because he'd sought constantly for Lucy and overlooked Nellie completely, like every other man. She'd been widowed for nearly two years and hadn't had so much as a fling or one night stand. Was it so wrong to wish for attention? The men around her always got what they wanted, why shouldn't she? Filled with this savage deprivation, she entered the former barbershop without so much as a breath of hesitation. Johanna was playing on the floor, much like her sister was downstairs. Nellie paused to listen for Lillian, and after a moment heard her whispers in the bedroom as she spoke to Lucy, in hopes it would help her cousin recover. What Lovett didn't notice was that a softer, slower voice was answering every so often.

"Ms. Oakley," Nellie called, "do you have a moment?"

Mrs. Lovett went back to her Mara when her job was done and paid for, and the two of them sat quietly as the Judge continued his business as he pleased. Apparently he'd brought the Beadle with him after all, and Nellie heard the clumping steps above her as he and another man went to collect Lucy. She then got a terrible fright when she heard Lucy's cries just outside her door – and they were comprehensible. Ignoring her sensibility, Nellie opened the back door to see what was happening. Lucy was being dragged away, screaming for mercy, for her cousin, for her child, for her husband.

"Take her to Bedlam," the Judge ordered gruffly, as Lillian and Johanna were being loaded into his own carriage.

"Mercy, mercy, please, my Lord!" Lucy shrieked, falling to her knees as the men continued to pull her along. As they passed the shop's door, Lucy suddenly reached out and grabbed Nellie's dress. "Please, ma'm, mercy on a poor soul! Can't you see, I can't be expected- I can't hold off-" Despite her muddled tongue, Lucy's pale and pinched face described her desperation in its entirety, her eyes so wide that the irises were surrounded by white all around. Nellie's only reaction was in disgust, however, and she kicked the woman away as soon as contact was made.

"Off, filth," she muttered, hoping Lucy could hear her. The blonde, once so prized, was now pushed to the muddy streets she would one day call home, and Mrs. Lovett had done the honors. The men disappeared with the women, carrying Lucy as she screamed like a scorned child.

That evening, Nellie went back upstairs to lock up the place one last time. She didn't bother packing anything or cleaning up; she'd only come for the key still hung on its nail. But a black box caught her eye, sitting open on the bed, as if Lucy had been examining it before she was taken away. It contained the razors –_his_ razors- the ones he'd cherished and cared for as much as he had his wife. There was something – no, nothing stood in her way of stealing another bit of Benjamin Barker. She grabbed the box without another thought and quickly left the hollow rooms, hollowed by her own hands, and locked the door behind her.

Ever since that morning, Nellie could feel a deep pit filling her stomach. It seemed that even though her own conscience wouldn't, her body saw fit to physically punish her. Nevertheless, she recognized how empty the building was now that the dreaded inevitability had been fulfilled: she'd helped the Judge, who had sent Benjamin away, and now the whole family was gone and the Judge would never come around again. It was as though a small microcosm had spun out of control and collapsed in on itself. Atleast Nellie had caught some debris from the wreck –Mara- and wasn't completely alone. She wouldn't lose the child like she'd lost everyone else, and she said a silent prayer that she would never have to destroy another life ever again.


	2. Riven Thread

_Chapter 2: Riven Thread_

Mara didn't trust her mother's oven; as a child she'd sworn it had large, menacing facial features, with doors for eyes and the furnace as a gaping mouth, just waiting to eat her up. But since she was old enough to reach its doors she'd been forced into oven duty and the baking of the pies. Mainly because her mother, being the vain thing she was, liked to leave the dirtier jobs to her daughter, but also because Mara preferred to stay in the back rather than deal with the customers. She didn't know how she'd ever run the whole business if she inherited it one day, but Nellie assured her she'd grow into it.

"Unless you run off with some man," her mother would lament everyday, this time when she brought down the daily meat for grinding. "Atleast marry rich and provide for your poor old mumsie." Mara ignored Nellie's pitiful sighs and stared at the package from the butchers, which wasn't much bigger than one of their own pies.

"What is that?"

"That's our beef, dear; no need to gawk at it so."

Mara picked up the meat as she wrinkled her nose at it. "It's pathetic."

"It's all we can afford," said Nellie, rapping her daughter on the back of the head. "And it's not going to grind itself, so get going. Go on!" She wiped her hands on her apron as she shoo'd the child off. "Give it a few extra passes this time; I want to get as much out of it as we can. And be sure to stoke the fire again, it looks a little low and I want those pies baked and sold before anyone notices there's less filling."

"Do we have to lower prices, mum?" Mara asked from the grinder. "If we're giving the customers less?"

"Not if I can help it," said Nellie, nearly smiling at her daughter's naiveté. "You charge what you can, dear, as long as you keep selling." Mara hmm'd over the proposition as her mother started flattening globs of dough for two-penny pies. Despite the cheery advice she'd just given, there was a clear anxiety in her work rhythm and Mara glanced at her periodically, watching the jerky movement of her elbows and the swaying of her skirts. There was still only silence between them when all of the meat had been ground, and several pass throughs made which rendered it little more than grit. Nellie began grabbing the meat and shoving it into the dough with such reckless abandonment it was a wonder the pies resembled anything other than disturbing blobs.

"Mum, can you slow down?" Mara finally asked, tired of listening to her mother's sighs and sharp breaths. "I can hardly get the gravy in."

"Sorry, dear, sorry," Nellie sighed once more, stepping away from the mess of dough and approaching the oven to stoke the fire instead. "I must be losing my mind… Over money troubles, I mean, that is. These butchers, I can't believe them, the way they try to swindle us. How are we supposed to make meat pies without meat? Immoral, that's what it is."

"Immoral meat pies, mum?"

"No, dear, that they're putting us out of our livelihood to benefit themselves. Oh." She noticed the tray Mara had been trying to hand her and slid it into the oven. "Really, dear, how am I supposed to teach you anything if you don't pay attention?"

_If I listened to everything you said my ears would fall off,_ thought Mara, but she chose not to say as much.

"Well," the girl said instead, "even Jesus had to explain what he told to his disciples."

"No need for such talk before Sunday, dear," said Nellie. She paused, withstanding the heat to stare at the sorry lot of pies before closing the oven door. "I don't know how we're going to make enough to buy meat tomorrow. If we even sell these… I just don't know…" She continued muttering to herself as she went back to the shop, Mara following behind. It was a relief to be away from the overwhelming stuffiness of the bake house, but while the girl felt brighter, Nellie only filled a mug with ale and sat at the backroom table, her face in her hands.

"Mum… mum," Mara pried, poking at the vertebrae jutting from the back of her mother's neck. "Aren't we going to ready the front to open?"

"Huh? Oh… right." Nellie gulped down some ale like fresh water before slowly getting back up. Mara was shoo'd off to tend the pies again, but she stopped at the doorway to watch as her mother stalled to finish her mug.

"Not so fast, mum, you'll make yourself ill."

Nellie waved her daughter off as she finished swallowing. "A sour stomach's my affair, dear. Now get going." Mara groaned, knowing she'd be the one to hear about it no matter whose affair it was, but continued her descent into the smoking depths.

Noon came as it always did, but the customers seemed to already know the sorry state of Mrs. Lovett's meat pies and trickled in less than usual.

"It's a malady, that's what it is!" cried Dr. Lupin as soon as he entered the shop and found it deserted. "Every pie shop on Bell Yard, and now you, too, Mrs. Lovett?"

"It's those damned butchers, Dr. Lupin." Nellie waved her rolling pin enthusiastically, and Mara had to turn from her sweeping to make sure she wasn't using it as a weapon. "They've got us, every one, and the entire meat pie industry has gone to pot."

"Does that mean no meat at all?"

"From now on it does," Nellie sighed. She leaned on the counter, as though from fatigue.

"Should I cross out the 'meat' on the sign outside, mum?" Mara interjected, but was sharply shushed.

"Is that all you've come for, Lupy?" Nellie asked, watching the man wistfully. Dr. Lupin didn't return the gaze.

"I can't imagine you'll sell any pies now, will you?" he implored. "The whole business is in shambles?"

"Oh, come now, Lupy, can't we talk about something other than pies? I see pies in my nightmares, and all day I make pies, smell pies-"

"-Sleep with pies, because no one will sleep with her," Mara added with a snicker.

"What a wicked child!" Nellie took a meatless pie and threw it at her daughter, who shrieked and ducked. "See what I have to put up with all day? Can't you deliver me from this?" The same pie came her way but missed completely.

"Can't say I can, Mrs. Lovett." He gave the shop one last look around before tipping his hat. "Good day, ladies." And he was out the door before Nellie could protest.

"Wha-? Now this? Why does everything have to go wrong at once?" Nellie's whining became a cry of anguish.

"He was only interested in the business," said Mara.

"Yes, but still…"

"Is it really true that all of the pie shops can't afford meat?" Mara continued before her mother started throwing a fit.

"It sounds like it, doesn't it?" Nellie opened the front door and watched the streets, as though she intended to get some customers by grabbing anyone who passed by.

"I heard Mrs. Mooney's still doing some business."

Nellie brought her head back in. "What, where'd you hear such a thing?"

"From that beggar woman who's always around," said Mara. She looked up from her sweeping to find her mother's expression had gone from upset to furious. "I didn't go near her, mum, I swear! I just heard her in the alleyway through the backdoor, and she was practically raving about it, she was. There's no way I couldn't have heard her."

"She'll molest you as soon as look at you. Surely I've told you a thousand times?"

Mara nodded and looked back down at her sweeping, hoping she wasn't going to get a beating. Her heart nearly stopped when Nellie grabbed the broom, but her mother's anger was directed elsewhere. "So, Mrs. Mooney's found a way to hold her own, eh? I'm going to go have a talk with her; you stay here, dear." Nellie left the shop in a huff and started marching down the street.

Mara didn't dare try to stop her mother, and wasn't sure what to do without her broom, so she just stood still for a moment. She was in the middle of dusting off the counter when screams were heard in the distance. Mara was afraid to look, but she couldn't help it, and she soon spotted her mother being chased out of the shop at the end of the street by Mrs. Mooney herself. Most of the customers found it hilarious, but Mr. Mooney came out to end their spat and sent Nellie out for good, without her broom. She came back to her shop looking frazzled, but more disappointed than defeated. "Now I not only look like a failure, but everyone thinks I've lost it."

"And you've lost our broom, too," Mara said. "Splendid job, mother."

Nellie kept up appearances, but something had truly hurt her that day. It could have been many things, but Mara couldn't imagine her mother's will being bent by… well, anything. Not by the rejection of a man, nor by being Fleet Street's laughing stock of the evening, not even by the loss of their entire livelihood. It was always onto the next thing, onto the next day. But as Nellie looked around the shop that evening, the lines on her face seemed deeper, and her eyes searched desperately, flickering left and right, as though what she sought were the blurs on the edge of her consciousness. Maybe it was because Mara didn't know what her mother desired from these walls, but the more she watched her the more she felt her search was in vain. Nellie finally locked the door, flinching at the resolute sound of the bolt sliding shut.

"Come to bed, mum!" Mara called from their chamber, looking out the door to see Nellie's light still flickering in the sitting room.

"Alright, just a moment…"

"Mum!" Mara shouted again until she heard an exasperated sigh. Nellie put down her mug and shuffled down the hall, still gripping her book of figures. Mara led her to the bed and sat behind her to undo her hair. "You keep drinking that ale like you do, and you'll end up as fat as Mrs. Poorlean."

"If I had an alehouse I would be by now." Nellie hissed as Mara tried to pull a stuck pin out of her hair. "As it is we're going to starve on a diet of flour."

"There." As Mara got the pins out, half of her mother's hair fell loose, crimped from being twisted up so long. "We're not really going to starve, mum."

"No, but…" Nellie sighed and trailed off. "If only we had a man, to work at the docks, maybe, we'd be better off."

"You mean Mr. Lovett, or that Mr. Barker of yours?" Mara smiled knowingly.

"Oh, well…" Her mother wiggled in her seat like a love struck girl. "No need to mind my fantasies, dear." The last half of her hair fell in her face as it was released, and Mara went back to her own bed to let Nellie get into her sleeping gown. "And what about you, dear little daughter? Have you found a man for us, yet? I wasn't much past your age when I was married, you know. Of course, my grandfather was eager to be rid of me…"

Mara sighed, having heard the reminder many times. "Mum, a man wouldn't look my way if I had a knife at his throat."

"Oh, come now." Nellie finished changing and settled herself in bed. "They're just shy; you're adorable, dear."

"Well, if I find my birthparents, I'll thank them- for nothing. I've not even a decent chest, yet."

"Oh, you will soon enough," said Nellie. "But, what about that sailor lad of yours?"

"Mr. Thornhill? What makes you think he wants me?"

"He was always looking for you when he came in." Nellie smirked. "And he never knew what he wanted when he came to the counter, as though his mind were elsewhere…"

"Yes, like not there at all." Mara blew out the candle, enveloping the room in darkness. All was still for a moment.

"But he stopped coming around," Nellie's voice piped up again. "Why could that be?"

"Maybe he heard the ghost stories around here."

"Oh, those foolish tales? Who believes those?"

"But, mum, you told me you knew the poor folks they tell about."

Nellie hesitated. "Well, yes, but I don't know their ghosts, dear, so how can there be stories about hauntings and such? Nonsense. We shouldn't talk about such things in the dark."

Mara paused to think it through. "Well, if that poor woman's spirit still lingered around here, we would have seen something by now, right?"

"Right," Nellie whispered, as though the spirits might hear her.

Nellie hated the pie shop, yet she still couldn't stand the thought of losing it. Not just because she had no where else to go –having no parents or siblings, and the remnants of her extended family wanting nothing to do with her- but because it had too many ghosts and she was their keeper, too many lost desires she couldn't let go of, because the life she was living these last 15 years was no life at all, but a hollow shell. While the business supported them she could keep herself stable, satisfied, but now… She had nothing, she never had, and she had no interest in keeping up a sane façade.

When she wasn't drinking she was habitually, obsessively making pies, because what else could she do? The odd poor soul might wander in and be made ill by her pies, or she would give them hell when she was drunk, or both, and more often people were crossing the street to avoid walking in front of her shop. Even Mara began to stay around less and less, though Nellie didn't notice half the time; she didn't want to. Whenever Mara came into the sitting room Nellie would leave, waiting for the day she could stand being with her daughter again, when she could face what remained of Lucy and Benjamin.

"Is this place open?" someone asked from the front door, startling Nellie, who had grown used to the self-inflicted silence. She turned from her dough kneading to find the Thornhill lad stepping hesitantly through her door. He seemed terrified that he had to face her. "Is-is Miss Lov- …Um, your daughter here?"

Nellie smiled at him. "I've seen you around here. Mr. Thornhill, is it?"

"Um…"

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Nellie held up her dough to just stare at it.

"Yes…"

"The gray eyes, pretty chin, that little nose." She balled up the dough and squeezed it in her fist, until it oozed between her fingers. Thornhill remained dumbstruck for a moment, until Mara came running into the room.

"Mum!" She looked between Nellie and Thornhill frantically, then grabbed the sailor's arm and pulled him out of the shop, banging the door behind her. Nellie continued to smile after them as she dropped the dough, but her eyes were pained by how cut off she felt from her life.

Days went by, days Nellie was no longer keeping track of. After the fifth bell rang from St. Dunstan's steeple one evening, Nellie was woken by the slam of her front door. She looked up from the counter she was slumped over, but could only see the bottom half of a dress.

"Mrs. Lovett," said the woman's stern voice. "In case you're too drunk to recognize me, I'm Lillian Oakley."

"Mmm?" Nellie sat up and rubbed her face.

"The woman you tricked into the Judge's clutches? Ring a bell?"

"Right," said Nellie, smacking her palm on the counter, though she'd known whom it was from her voice. "I didn't know he allowed you to stray. I don't suppose you've come for a pie?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, so you've come to mock me and laugh at my failure, then?" said Nellie. "Well, you and every other woman on this street. Mrs. Mooney already paid me a visit." She gestured to her window, smeared with a mess of rotten eggs, and Lillian stared at it for a moment.

"Yes, well, I had some news for your daughter, and I thought I'd share it with you, too."

Nellie stood up slowly, carefully watching Lillian's expression. "What, exactly?"

"Just that her sailor's been coming by the Judge's house everyday to look for Johanna, instead of seeing your daughter, it seems."

"You didn't have to tell her that," Nellie hissed.

"Your girl seemed rather upset, as you can imagine. The Judge will find the boy soon enough, anyway." Lillian's voice was smirking even though her lips weren't, and she was quick to leave the shop before Nellie could lung at her.

There was nothing more Nellie would've loved to do than attack Lillian in the street, but she had to wait for Mara to come home, so she could comfort her somehow. At least, she hoped she could conjure up enough heart to.

When the girl did return to the shop she was calm but red-faced, clutching something in her fist.

"Mara?" Nellie wondered as her daughter came into the parlor.

"Mum?"

Nellie stood to place her hands on the girl's shoulders. Yes, that seemed like a sympathetic gesture. "Mara, I know you're upset. You can tell your mumsie."

"What?" Mara jerked back defensively, and part of what she held spilled between her fingers.

"Mara, what's..?"

They were white pearls, a string of them, perhaps a necklace. The girl put her other hand over it in an effort to conceal.

"It's nothing, mum, it's…" Mara took in a shuttered breath to keep from sobbing. "He was going to bring them to that… that other girl!"

"Who?" Nellie asked, carefully.

"I don't know. This woman said… I just know it was another girl."

She didn't seem to know who it was, or even that the other girl was the Judge's ward, which relieved Nellie.

"But why did you take the necklace, dear?" Nellie asked, worried that it would get them into trouble, something they were in no position to deal with.

"Because, he…"

"It doesn't matter, just go give it back."

"I-I can't…"

"What're you…?" Nellie blinked at her daughter, wondering what the shame she saw in her body language meant.

"I didn't mean to, it was an accident."

"What was?" Nellie grabbed Mara's collar, pulling her closer. "What was?"

"I found him by the bay, he was going to give the necklace to the other girl, I didn't mean to push him in!"

"What do you mean you didn't mean to push him in!" Nellie gasped in panic. "Well, what happened, was he upset? Oh, you stupid girl, this is no time to be messing with men! He'll take legal action and we'll be out on the streets." Nellie paused but Mara didn't answer. "Mara? What happened, just tell me what he did."

"He… well…"

"Well, what?"

"He didn't exactly come back up again."

Nellie blinked. How could a sailor drown? "Oh, God, Mara, you killed him?"

"It's not my fault he didn't come back up!"

"Okay, alright, we need to figure this out. Do you know who might miss him?"

"I don't know if he has family, but I think he signed up to work at the docks, starting tomorrow."

Nellie paused to think, her lips slightly parted. "Okay. How about… Well, that's an interesting idea…"

"What?" Mara asked in worry, watching her mother go off to some trunks in the hall and start rummaging around in them.

"Here, these'll do." She returned with a man's shirt and trousers, either kept from her late husband or stolen belongings from Benjamin. "You're going to wear these, you're going to go to the docks, and you're going to be Mr. Thornhill."

"Mum, you're crazy," said Mara as she pushed the clothes away, so Nellie threw them on her daughter's head. "Won't they know I'm not him?"

"Oh, these dockworkers just sign a list and show up the next day, they'll never know." Nellie grabbed the pearls to hide later, then pushed Mara through the backdoor.

"You're sending me right now?"

"Of course, you need to be prompt or someone will notice."

"But-"

Nellie slammed the door and locked it, listening to Mara's protests and hammering on the wood. And somehow Nellie felt relief when the din finally ceased and Mara walked away, relieved that she was finally rid of the girl. It had been an accident, of course, Mara hadn't wanted it to happen, but… It was odd, how unaffected both of them were by someone's death.

Lovett continued making pies the next day, just as she always did, and when they staled and hardened she had something to throw at beggars. But she still kept an eye on the door, sure that if anybody came around these days it might be Mara running back home.

Someone did come through the door eventually, knocking it against the sad, rusted bell. It made Nellie jump up instantly, disturbing the flour she was using into a slight mist around the counter, but a tall man was entering the shop instead of her girl. That was good enough for Nellie, who lunged at the fellow so suddenly he nearly fled the store.

"Wait, sir!" she cried. "What's your rush…?"

(Note: The characters of Dr. Lupin and Mrs. Poorlean come from an 1842 script of _Sweeney Todd_ by George Pitt, as well as the surname Oakley (originally used by Johanna in said play).)


	3. Hook and Eye

_Chapter 3: Hook and Eye_

She was used to carrying her life in a small sack, to lying to everyone she met, to being called by a different name and feigning masculinity. But over a month passed and she'd grown restless of this new view of the world. She couldn't say what she was looking for, if it was a more complete life than she'd known as an orphan, or for a man's touch outside of lusty sailors perusing her as a skinny little dock boy. At any rate, Mara was becoming a woman and had decided to run back home to her mother.

The ocean stretched out as gray as the sky the day she swung her sack over her shoulder and began walking back to the heart of London. She had a feeling what she now needed was to be back at the pie shop. The dockworkers and sailors couldn't say they were sad to see the young lad leave that day; he did his work dutifully but was about as social able as the driftwood that washed ashore.

Still disguised as a boy, Mara came to a familiar section of the city by evening. Fetter Lane met up with Chauncery Lane, and she ran across the street behind a passing carriage to start her walk down Fleet Street. Two-story buildings were crammed along either side of the narrow lane, and in the fading light it was easy to pass by the single shop numbered 186. Tonight, however, something seemed to be afoot and downright wrong where this particular building should be. Mara was stopped in her tracks in apprehension, and decided to take her chances with a group of beggars on the street corner. Two seemed to be asleep, or dead, and were little more than bundles of rags, but one woman was riffling through an ashcan.

"You there, woman," said Mara as authoritatively as she could muster. "You are a woman, aren't you?" The beggar turned sharply to look at her with a toothless smile.

"What? What's that, boy?" Her voice was a raspy shriek.

"I'm not a boy, woman, so keep your hips to yourself." Mara gave her a kick until she hobbled back. "Tell me, what's the shop up there? The one that still does business at this hour."

"Oh, that's Missy Lovett's pie shop, it is. A place of sin, where the Devil does business on earth! Her bake house reeks of Hell, and still they gather for those pies!"

"The furnace must need some cleaning," said Mara, sensibly. "You're certain it hasn't become a whorehouse, then? Who would actually buy our pies?"

When the beggar woman only raved some more about saving their souls, Mara decided to continue ahead to see for herself. Although it was possible to go through the front by pushing past some folks, Mara didn't like the idea, so she detoured down an alley to the side door. But something was odd here, too; there was a new barber's pole at the base of the stairs, for one, and with a creak of a door someone came out from the second story room. Mara stopped to watch the tall shadow, his white coat glowing in the darkness as he leaned against the railing. She couldn't see his face, but after a moment she could tell he'd looked her way.

"Hello, lad," said a deep voice, as though he'd been expecting her. "Have you come for a barber, or are you as lost as you look?"

Now Mara really felt like she'd come home to a different world. "N-no, sir, no. I… This is Mrs. Lovett's shop, then, is it?"

"It has been as long as I've known, although you'd do well to go by the front if you're looking to buy any pies." Something had glinted in the moonlight, and Mara realized the man was holding his straight razor, shifting it side to side to admire it.

"No, sir, no," she said again, moving towards the door. "I don't intend to buy pies I used to make myself." And she went inside before any more small talk was expected from her.

The once familiar aroma of pies was nearly overwhelming in the backroom, and Nellie's yelling was piercing the air as usual.

"Tell them to all go home! No, we're closed! Go on!"

Mara was still playing with the Mrs. Lovett's Whorehouse idea in her mind when her mother came back from the front. She was too busy to notice Mara at first, but Nellie suddenly caught her daughter in her sight and started screaming.

"Goodness mercy God in heaven! My Mara come back to me?" Nellie lunged forward and squeezed Mara until she gasped for air, then she stepped back to smack her in the face. "You shouldn't have come back so soon! What're you thinking?"

"I doubt anyone will miss me, mum."

"Well, you should just go back anyway, because you're not welcome here. Especially not with hair like that." Her mother turned sharply and went back to stacking pie trays. Mara felt at her ear-length mess of hair before approaching Nellie from behind.

"What's all this about, mum? Why do we have customers? Where'd you get this fancy dress?" She grabbed at the new layer of flesh around her mother's waist. "And where'd this come from?" Nellie eek'd and smacked Mara's hand away.

"What did those sailors teach you? How to molest your own mother?"

"You haven't answered my questions. Have you turned this place into a whorehouse? You have, haven't you?" Mara was smacked again.

"Oh, come now, how could you accuse your own mumsie of such a thing?" An odd smile tugged at Nellie's cheeks as she turned back to the front. "I've just been having some good luck, lately. Toby! Toby, dear, come here." A homely boy came to the door the moment she called, and Nellie handed him a broom. "Use this to shoo the rest away."

"Yes, mum!" He nodded and ran back out, loyal as a puppy and just as frantic. Mara's eyebrows twitched as she watched their interaction.

"He's just some help I… acquired," said Nellie, seeing her daughter's expression. "Now, if I ever get this place closed and cleaned up I'll help you settle back in and… I'll explain, I suppose…" She trailed off and wiped her hands on her apron to distract herself. As she did this she felt her hips, and then twisted around a bit to get a better look at them. "Well, I do have a new shape to me, don't I? Men like women with softer curves to them, you know, not all sharp edges."

"Oh? And, pray tell, mum, what man are you changing your shape for?"

Nellie glanced upward before she was conscious of doing so, or else she didn't care to stop herself. To others it might have seemed like she was looking to God for the answer. Mara knew better.

Nellie got the fright of her life when Mara stepped back into the shop after she'd convinced herself the girl would stay away for good. She was certain Mara would love being anywhere other than the wretched pie shop, then would find a man, pop out some kids, endure whatever abuse came with the role of wife, and Nellie wouldn't hear about it until years later in an apologetic letter. She knew that's how things would have gone if the girl took after her, but Mara ended up being like her real mother, wandering back to torment Nellie. Truly, some unholy force must have been leading them back to haunt her, and spooks of flesh and blood were worse than wispy spirits. Even that Judge had returned for a brief visit above her store, though he'd hardly bothered acknowledging her. Reconciliation came with the return of Benjamin – or, Mr. Todd, as she now called him. It was a strange day when he went out on her roof and repainted his shop's exterior, his pseudo-name covering 'Benjamin Barker.' Nellie had half expected the old paint to push through the new layer in retaliation, but the past accepted its fate, even if the building's occupants didn't share its philosophy.

And yet, what had become because of her supposed bad karma? More wealth than she'd ever known before; more than Albert had promised her when they were wed. Unintentionally she'd helped Sweeney become a homicidal maniac, and somehow that had worked to her advantage. She'd strived on without a husband all of these years, but she still had to rely on a man to finally find success, just as she'd relied on the memory of Benjamin to satisfy her lonesome sexuality. Now she had men around again, but the disturbing fact was that she cared about Mara, more than she desired Sweeney, in a way that made her feel vulnerable. Their time apart had taught her this, and she couldn't imagine disposing of her like she would anyone else. Even Sweeney could become pie filling if she decided he was more satisfying that way. But in the weeks since her daughter's return, Nellie was almost ashamed of what she was doing, and she found trouble lying to Mara, knowing that the surname they shared would haunt her daughter if their macabre affairs ever came out. _Most of all,_ she thought, her heart plunging in regret, _I don't want her to take after me. _

"Mum, are you alright?"

Nellie jumped where she stood, listening for the sounds of a body passing behind her walls into the cellar. She turned, barely able to look Mara in the eyes. _Isn't she smarter than that Toby? She knows by now, she has to know._ "'Course, dear, it's just been a long day. Why don't you go on to bed?"

"Are you sure?"

"Toby can finish up front. Tell him he can get to bed when he's done, too, if I'm not around, alright?" Mara nodded, hanging up her apron and the shawl she wore to hide her hair before disappearing down the hall. Nellie could tell the month at the docks had affected her daughter in someway; she seemed more confident but also less talkative, like verbal communication served a practical purpose and nothing more. After a moment she realized she was staring at the wall with unfocused eyes, and her own consciousness startled her.

The cellar was a mess; Sweeney had started the dismantling himself and was in a hurry.

"Where have you been?" he asked as soon as he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"I'm sorry, love, I just got too busy and must not have heard you earlier." She stopped at the last step; three bodies were laid out on the floor besides the one Sweeney had started. "My, you've had a busy evening. What did I tell you before? Just a few at night will suffice; I'm still worn out from the ones we did this morning." A bundle of clothes was shoved at her as a response, and then Sweeney hunched over his work of freeing the arms from the torso. Nellie searched the pockets, finding a purse and gloves for her troubles, and burned the rest in the furnace. "Should I start getting that one's skin off?"

"No." Sweeney held out the largest saw. "Get the limbs off those two before they stiffen up."

"Oh, God," Nellie lamented. She wasn't disgusted by the prospect, but her back had a hard time taking the work. Still, she felt compelled to oblige and started on the first subject. "If you don't mind my saying, Mr. T, do you think we can keep this up for long? What with there being two more at my place." Sweeney turned his head, his tall brows arched over bruised sockets.

"If you think they suspect, Mrs. Lovett, send them up for a visit."

"Oh, no, no." Nellie chuckled in anxiety. "The lad isn't clever enough, but... My girl's smart, though she won't cause trouble for us, I'm sure."

"If she's from your womb, I can't imagine." He urged her to press on and began on the third, who turned out to be unconscious rather than completely dead. Sweeney fumbled for his razor and, with a jerk of his arm, made quick work of the throat. Nellie found herself looking away from the body as it convulsed. If she thought of the victims as just bodies, just flesh, she wasn't bothered, but these days she kept picturing Mara's throat under Sweeney's caressing blade, right before it pressed in deeper, then cut skin and arteries with a quick slice. He hadn't killed a woman yet, she thought, but was that just circumstance or a conscious oath? Would he strike fair skin if he felt a need to?

Nellie's hand trembled as she took out a handkerchief and pressed it against her cheek and forehead. She could feel her sight fading around the edges.

"Mrs. Lovett, I've never seen you swoon from our work before. It's not making you ill again, it is? I thought you'd gotten over that."

She turned to Sweeney, wondering if there was actual concern in his expression. It was hard to discern any emotion from him besides rage, although Nellie had a tendency to decipher his feelings in ways that suited her. "No, no, I've just… been too busy to get much sleep lately, I'm afraid. It's catching up to me."

Sweeney grunted in acknowledgement, turning back to his work as always.

They went back to Nellie's sitting room afterward, though neither seemed to have enough energy to enjoy each other's company. Nellie tried to finish counting up her day's earnings, but when she read the numbers '732' and thought they were in numeral order, she knew her mind had had enough.

"I think I need to turn in for the night, love, I can't read my numbers proper." She beckoned for him to help her out of her chair, leaning into Sweeney's chest as his arms enveloped her for support. His touch was stiff and without warmth, but Nellie loved it for what it was and nudged his chin down to find his lips.

"Good night, Mrs. Lovett," said Sweeney when the woman hadn't moved since resting her head against his shoulder. He grabbed one of her hair-buns and pulled back Nellie's head to find her eyes closed in sleep. "Mrs. Lovett?"

"Mnah?" was her only response, so Sweeney led her to her chamber and helped her lie on the bed. Nellie was vaguely aware of what was going on and tried to hold onto Sweeney, but he slipped away.

Early in the morning, when the light was growing but had yet to disturb the cover of shadows, Nellie found herself awake and overwhelmed by heat. The dark form of Mara was above her, and she suddenly got a shock of cold as a wet cloth was placed on her forehead. "Mm?"

"Shh, it's just me, mum. You've been tossing all night." She smoothed her mother's hair back while feeling her cheeks. "And you're absolutely burning up. What should I do? Should I go wake the apothecary?"

"No, no!" Nellie nearly choked on her own spit in delirium. "No, I… I just need some tea with chamomile, from the cupboard, dear; I'll be alright." Mara hmm'd but went out to the kitchen, stepping softly past Toby as he slept on his bundle of blankets on the floor. Nellie dozed off waiting and, no more than second later to her, was awakened again.

"You look terrible, mum," Mara said, as she helped her mother sit up enough to sip from the cup, the vapors of chamomile and spearmint warming Nellie's face. "When I got back you seemed so healthy for once, and now you're ill like I haven't seen you for some time. What happened?"

"Sometimes things just worry me too much, child."

"What sorts of things?"

"Many things." Nellie patted her daughter's hand as her eyelids shut on their own, giving way to exhaustion. There was silence for a moment, until Mara put the cup down.

"Is it that Mr. Todd?" she said at length. "Is he bothering you? Has he tried to molest you? He's always hanging around here instead of his own room."

Nellie could feel the smile on her own face.

"That's because I invite him in, dear. He's just a lonely fellow, up there all by himself. He doesn't try to harm me."

"I'm just not used to having a man around in our home, in the middle of our business."

"Poor fatherless thing you are, that's the trouble." Nellie gave the hand a few more pats. "You need to remember, child, I started out in this place with a man around, and I've longed for that presence to return." Mara's huffed sigh told Nellie she was still bothered, but she didn't argue.

"Well, what're we going to do at dawn? And don't expect to get up to work."

Nellie's eyes ached in the weak light as she tried to open them. "But, I have to, dear; I can't stay laid up here while there's paying customers outside."

"Yes, you can." Mara's forehead wrinkled in worry. "This isn't just the sniffles you've got, mum. People on our street die from fevers everyday. Why don't you let me bake the pies? I know how to make and sell 'em, and Toby can help."

Nellie's mind numbed as she tried to figure out the situation. Yesterday's meat was still distinguishable as humanoid, and even though she'd considered letting Mara in on the secrets of her success, she wasn't in a state to do so at the moment. If ever. Nellie was just glad she still had the bake house key on the chain around her neck.

The light became brighter and Nellie had to squint her eyes too much to see anything. "I know, dear, but I can't let you. Not yet."

"What do you mean?"

Nellie decided to roll over instead of answering. Mara took the cloth before it slipped off of her mother's face. "Mum? Mum…? I don't understand you sometimes, do you know that? Why won't you let me be useful around here?"

"You can tell Mr. Todd for me that I'm not opening the shop today," Nellie replied without turning back. "He's usually up this early."

"You're delirious, aren't you?" Mara pulled her mother's shoulder down until she lay flat on her back again, then cooled off her face once more with the cloth. "Why would you close the shop with two aids at hand? You better come to your senses soon, because I won't stand your nonsense much longer."

Mara made sure her mother was comfortable before leaving the chamber in a silent huff. Toby leapt away from the door as she came out, but he wasn't quick enough.

"Is mum alright?" he asked before he could be questioned.

"Don't call her that," Mara snapped. "She's not your mum."

"Oh, um…" He looked down, a bit hurt by the reminder. "I mean, is Mrs. Lovett okay? Is it a bad fever?"

"Doesn't seem to be." Mara tried to walk away from the conversation, but Toby followed behind her.

"But, it could get worse," he said. "Shouldn't we send for an apothecary?"

"I've seen her come out of worse by sheer determination when we couldn't afford much else." She turned so sharply at the staircase that Toby nearly ran into her. "You can go care for her if you wish, and call on the apothecary if she lets you. But she's crabbier than usual, so don't expect much." Then she climbed the stairs to the barbershop, listening to Toby's muddled pause before he ran off again.

"Mr. Todd?" Mara called as she knocked on the door. He didn't answer verbally, but she was let in a moment later.

"Why, Miss Lovett, this is an early call." At any time of the day he always seemed dressed and alert. Mara wondered if he ever slept. "What brings you up here?"

"It's my mum, sir," she said as Sweeney closed the door behind them, revealing that his barber coat was hanging up on it, looking freshly washed. "She's in bed with a fever, and she won't let me run the shop myself, so we have to stay closed today."

Sweeney stared at her for a moment, the news affecting him in some unknown way. Then he stuck his hands in his pockets.

"I see."

Mara waited, wondering if he would have some other comment to make, and found herself looking about the room. It was oddly neat, without a trace of hair on the floor, apron and towel folded, and the chair in the middle looking hardly worn at all. Most other barbershops she'd seen advertised their trades with jars of pulled teeth or wigs weaved from cut hair, but they were absent here.

"You have an odd trade here, sir," she commented. "Cutting off or taking out what grows on people for a fee."

"Your trade has its oddities, too, Miss Lovett," he replied, but didn't elaborate. "Tell me, is your mother really too ill to work?"

"Yes, sir, she is," Mara nodded. "She'll have to stay in bed or she'll only get worse. And it's made her delirious enough as it is." Sweeney had another bout of silence, which wore on Mara's patience. She turned to leave when his hand gripped her shoulder. It gave her chills she couldn't explain.

"May I have a moment of your time, Miss Lovett? After all, we are neighbors, though we've yet to share a real conversation."

Mara had to stop and consider the situation, but she eventually turned back around to face the barber. He wasted no time on small talk.

"Are you really Mrs. Lovett's daughter?" he asked, with an inflection that was too open-ended for Mara to decipher. Did he mean blood-wise? Personality-wise? Legally? Legitimately?

"I'm not quite sure I understand you, Mr. Todd." She put a hand to her collarbone, a very Nellie-like gesture, and the husk in her voice so suddenly matched the elder Lovett that Sweeney was snapped out of whatever haze afflicted him. He hadn't just been looking at her, but into her; so what was he seeing?

"Is that all, Mr. Todd?"

He had already turned away and was testing his razor's sharpness against his own top layer of skin. It was unnerving how quickly he got lost in his own little world. _Never seen a type like him among the dock men,_ Mara thought. _Tall and straight like a pole, and so precise in everything he did_. A shiver from within made her shoulder muscles spasm. "You care a lot for that razor, don't you?"

Sweeney turned his head suddenly, as though he just realized she still lingered. "Yes." He faced Mara again and held the razor aloft to reflect the sunlight off the blade. Mara found herself staring at it too, for though she'd seen such a tool in her time, Sweeney's grip brought something out of it. Something alluring and powerful, yet out of reach. But the handle in particular caught her eyes, and its inlay design. She was sure it looked familiar but couldn't quite place it.

"It's a right fine piece of work, it is, Mr. Todd. But, I'll be expected downstairs soon." Mara made her way to the door; yet, even as she left Sweeney was too engaged to notice.

Breakfast was cooked and eaten at a leisurely pace for the first time since no one knew when. Nellie finished her medicinal tea with Toby's assistance, but couldn't be persuaded into eating anything, as Mara had expected. All she could do was keep her mother supplied with tea and herbs to keep her temperature down, although the fever seemed as stubborn as Nellie herself. Toby vowed not to leave her side until she was well again, and as Mara didn't want to crowd her she kept to herself in the parlor. Customers would start arriving soon to find a closed pie shop, and Mara was made tense by the calm before the storm.

She nearly jumped from her seat when Sweeney decided to come down unannounced. He didn't seem to notice he'd scared her half to death as he sat next to her on the couch.

"You find someone else to mind your barbershop for you, Mr. Todd?" Mara asked, too annoyed to stay silent.

"As much as your mother says you've changed since leaving for the docks, you've also changed a lot since returning." He didn't look at her as he spoke. "She used to be the only one who addressed me in that tone." Mara narrowed her eyes at him.

"I hadn't realized you paid so much attention to me, Mr. Todd."

He didn't reply.

"Besides, I thought mum fancied you," she continued. "Or does that just mean she gets angry with you more often?" Sweeney seemed amused by the comment and rubbed his chin with the back of his hand.

"Well, your mother knows what she wants and how to get it."

"She doesn't bully you into intercourse, does she?" Mara raised her eyebrows emphatically as she said this, staring at Sweeney until he answered. His reply was a simple, "No," but it was too vague to rule out un-bullied sex. At this point, Mara couldn't tell if the possibility made her upset, disgusted, or strangely jealous. She was about to ask for a broader answer, but she suddenly realized how direct she was being to a man she considered a stranger. "I apologize, Mr. Todd, I'm not being proper."

Sweeney nodded in assent but didn't seem to disapprove.

"Your mother's taught you to be curious, rather than a merely docile woman."

Being called a woman startled Mara; no man before had addressed her newfound fertility by name. It suggested maturity and sexuality, something she knew little about. But she knew men wanted it and preferred looking to women to supply it. Was that what she saw in his eyes? Desire? The realization startled her and she quickly stood up.

"Excuse me, Mr. Todd, I should go check on the shop…" But she only took a few steps before pausing in apprehension – the kind that told her she didn't truly want to leave. She must be out of her mind; she was just a child, and he… His hands were on her shoulders now, gentle, but holding her to the spot.

"Stay a moment, Miss Lovett." His voice was close to her ear. "You've made pies for your mother all your life, have you not? It is a bit strange, then, that she no longer allows you to."

Mara's breath stopped short as she tottered dangerously on the edge of interpretating his actions. "Well, Mr. Todd, I'm sure she has her reasons," Mara said, and found she was whispering. "Mum's a picky woman and wouldn't take a chance on losing profit…" His hand caressed her exposed neck and she felt her skin burn.

"But, you worked hard at the docks, didn't you? Tell me, were you taught to gut fish?"

"Only a bit, sir…"

"How to separate the skin from the flesh," Sweeney continued, "to de-bone, to pack and salt the meat, to clean up the blood and innards?"

"A bit, sir, a bit. Can't say it was pleasant, but I did as I was told."

"Hm." Sweeney then gave her a platonic pat on the shoulder. "I apologize for keeping you. You may go, I have my own business to attend to."

Mara turned to find that he was already leaving the room to return to his shop, and she truly had no idea what had just transpired.

Nellie lulled between sleep and wakefulness, listening to the footsteps from the room above. She could close her eyes and picture Sweeney pacing across the floorboards, and it only seemed natural that he would eventually come to her, for the thought and the man were one in the same. She felt his presence before it darkened her doorway.

"Hello, Mr. Todd," said she in a throaty voice. "I knew you'd pay me a visit. And just in time, too; I sent the boy away to help Mara beat back the customers." Sweeney came forward solemnly, kneeling by her like the pious at prayer.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Lovett?"

"Oh, well, this fever's got me all out of sorts, love." She sighed pitifully. "My old remedies don't work like they used to."

"I'm sure it will break soon."

Nellie watched as Sweeney wet her cloth in the pitcher, with the same focused intent he had when preparing a customer. He wrung it out slowly, and gently began to dab at her forehead and down her face, to the jaw line, a bead of moisture trickling down to her collarbone. The cloth followed its path and then traveled across her throat in a manner that startled Nellie. But Sweeney continued lower, down her blouse and between her breasts, very conscious that his actions were short of euphoric to the woman. Nellie was tempted to close her eyes and lean her head back, open and prone, but a tic in her neck jerked her back to awareness, in time to see the glint of Sweeney fishing his razor out of his coat pocket. She sat up so suddenly that he also startled.

"And just what do you think-?" But he forced her back down, and she barely had the energy to struggle. The razor was raised above her, suddenly so powerful and intimidating when she was on the receiving end. Her nerve was quickly fleeing her and she couldn't control her rapid breaths; she didn't realize at first that the gasps she heard were her own. "Well, this is sudden! Atleast tell me why, or have you just tired of male blood?"

"I'm afraid you stand in my way, " he said, tightening his grip on her shoulder. "I've put up with you to aid my vengeance, but my patience wears thin."

"Oh, you can't be serious; are you really going to risk letting someone else in on your secrets? Who would serve you as willingly as I have? Who else can bake the pies-" But she stopped short, the answer coming to her suddenly. "Please, no, Mr. Todd, she's only a girl-"

"I'll do what I have to, Mrs. Lovett, surely you know that." His eyes were dark, and she couldn't even imagine apprehension in them. Nellie's arms shook of their own accord as the blade was pressed against her, ice on the skin. But even as she tried to keep her throat still, a high, ringing laugh escaped it.

"I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I told you I was with child."

"Such lies may work on executioners, but not on me."

Nellie kept laughing at him, desperately. "Surely you haven't forgotten, the night we made our first pie from that Pirelli fellow. The danger excited me too much, I needed to release it, and it was clear you felt the same." Sweeney didn't move, not even to blink. "And of course there was plenty of ale at hand, so…" She pressed her lips together smugly and then continued her mocking laughter, causing the man to falter.

"Don't you dare lie, woman-"

"So you don't remember? Wasn't it your chest against mine, as you forced yourself into me? I merely submitted."

His tightened grip on the razor told her he remembered vividly; she could feel the blade's edge stinging her skin.

"An experience I vowed to put behind me, Mrs. Lovett. But don't expect claiming to be with child will save you. A false woman is better off dead."

"Oh, no no no." Nellie kept her eyes fixed on his, as one wolf would challenge another. "Why do you think I had an ill stomach so often? 'Tweren't just the blood or corpses, which never bothered me when we started our business. And, even having the wealth to eat more, how can I grow plump while working myself ragged, hm?"

Sweeney eyed her swollen breasts and then jumped back, suddenly convinced enough to take his razor away. "You've made your case well, Mrs. Lovett."

Nellie sat up and rubbed her neck. "I knew you weren't heartless enough to kill your own unborn child, what with the fuss you make about that Johanna of yours."

"I don't desire a child that mixes your blood with mine," Sweeney said, sternly. "But… it could be female. It could have innocence."

"Your morals touch me, Mr. Todd, really," said she. "And what of us when I grow too large to conceal, and after it comes? Surely you don't want a bastard child, do you, Mr. T, to cause attention and suspicion from our neighbors? No, of course not." She gave him a triumphant smile, while Sweeney's eyes widened in realization. "Well, how about it? Shall I be your Mrs. Sweeney Todd?"

In the silence she found her breathing was still labored, and the fever was giving her chills, but Nellie ignored them as she anxiously waited for his answer. Sweeney's expression had been shocked open, and he was obviously feeling outwitted. But he slowly calmed, slowly deadened his emotions once more. It then became his turn to smile knowingly, and Nellie's chest pained in fright when she saw this.

"Yes, Mrs. Lovett, you may become my wife," he said, without a trace of his prior anxiety. "But only for the child's sake, and that can only happen if it is born, alive and well. Only then will we wed."

Nellie's lips parted in shock. As soon as they were married she had planned to rid herself of the infant inside of her; it would surely die as soon as it was born, for a miracle of God had never come from her womb successfully, and even for a price no medical assistance made labor safe for a woman. Her last birth had nearly killed her, and at her age she felt no doubt that this one would finish the job.

This Sweeney was counting on, or else he wanted the child enough to wait to kill her afterwards, and anyway she turned it Nellie wasn't going to get out of the situation alive. The thing growing inside of her, which should have been proof and product of their love, was now slow moving poison, death in nine months time. And yet, if she didn't serve as a host for his spawn, he was ready and willing to dispose of her now. But she hid her devastation, knowing that her will was the only defense she had left.

"Well, we're as good as married, then, love." Nellie shivered and lay back down on her rumbled bedding. She was too fatigued to comprehend how this would change things between them, but it couldn't be worse than what it already was. Both still had the other under their thumb, though the stakes were suddenly even more life threatening.

She reached out and took his razor-less left hand, kissing his ring finger boldly, defiantly. "Although I hadn't realized you were in love with death enough to take a corpse for a bride."

"I'm glad we understand each other, my pet." Sweeney returned her kiss on the hand holding his, where he'd never seen her wear a ring from her previous marriage. "You built your coffin, woman, now lie in it."


	4. Lace and Chemise

_Chapter 4 Lace and Chemise_

Not being autonomous, not being singular, that's what upset Nellie the most about living. She was a woman, and society said her purpose was to live for a man and for her children. Nature itself dictated her fate as a host for human parasites. And yet, when she was rejected from this station in life, yes, not the other way around, she was given a rare chance for individualism, to a certain extent. No husband, no children, and a home with finances of her own, few women had that. But her running the shop herself made the other women pity her, for even they thought her independence was a kind of failure. Nellie couldn't relish it either; her emotions wouldn't let go on the hopes of being a mother and a wife. That was the kicker – she could get what she wanted but she couldn't want it when she had it.

And thus she wasn't singular, she was a million pushes and pulls and wants in every direction, obsession to a dangerous degree, so much so that her morals and sensibilities were drowned out. Her father had taught her to be emotionally distanced from men, but she hungered for Sweeney with all her being. Her stillborns made her hate children, but she still stole one for her own.

If there was one thing she couldn't trust it was herself, for not even the Devil, for all his penchant for sin, could guess her true desires.

She hadn't meant to reveal the pregnancy to Sweeney, but she'd had to use it to save herself before she had the chance to abort it. And that was the last grain on the scale, her mind refused to deal with anything sensibly anymore. Wasn't she supposed to be the calm one? The one who kept Sweeney in check when he lost his cool? Now it was practically the other way around, and she was swiftly becoming the nutcase who had to be persuaded to behave.

And what it really came down to was that Nellie's emotions were so wound up she was re-evaluating herself every moment of the day. She knew well that it was an affect of the pregnancy, but the added stress of concealing cadavers from her daughter and the world was more than she could handle. Like stringing a line too short on a bow too long, she could withstand the tension only so much before snapping. More often Nellie went to bed angry and woke up disgruntled, did her work in a huff and had screamed at everyone before noon. But it wasn't until even Toby started avoiding her that Nellie finally saw how deep of a pit she'd dug herself into.

She spent a long night feeling broken and hopeless, for the sake of self-pity. Mara was curled up on the far end of her bed across the room, so with drawn from her mother even in sleep. There was something Nellie had to do… but her mind was too disobedient to even hint at the notion, and her head felt like it would sprain from the pressure of uncertainty. She was up and out the door, fumbling in the darkness before her consciousness could catch up. A match from her robe pocket lit a candelabrum in the sitting room, and from there she was up the stairs, wanting Sweeney like a lost child wanted its parents. Her knocks were loud and ominous in the silence.

Sweeney opened the door part way, one eye and half a face watching Nellie as she blinked at him in guilt and distress. Neither one reacted for a long moment, sharing a gaze that meant nothing to either of them. Nellie was dying for him to make the first acknowledgement, and when he didn't she put a hand over her face to hide her verge of tears. The very gesture betrayed her and Sweeney came out to take her hand.

"What it is, my dear Mrs. Lovett?" He had developed a strange sympathy towards her; her well-being affected the baby's, after all. Nellie was nearly disgusted by the fake sentiments, but she still fell for them at face value. She opened her mouth to speak but the words choked in her throat, surprising her almost as much as it did Sweeney. He held her closer. "Can't you sleep?"

"No… I can't anymore, I have such horrible dreams. Mara says it scares her, the way I cry out at night, though she barely talks to me now, the way I've been." Sweeney tried to hush her soothingly as he led her down the stairs. "I don't want you to think I've lost my nerve, Mr. Todd, but I can't help my emotions anymore, I don't know how long I can handle this…"

They both sat on the couch, and Sweeney surprised her by lying her down gently, until her head was on his lap. Nellie settled her legs on the couch and let her head tilt back before him.

"How trusting we are," he said, tracing a light finger down the bridge of her nose. "Such confidence is foolish."

"I'm not taunting you, I'm just resigning." She closed her eyes, and felt his finger following the deep lines under them. "Do your worst, I'd consider it a favor now."

"I know that's not what you want."

"You mean it's not what _you_ want for the baby." Her eyes snapped open. "You've made my life a living hell, do you know that?" Nellie expected Sweeney's anger to flare up as it always did when she nagged at him, but he remained the picture of solemn contentment, not even bothering with a reply.

"Sleep now," he said, closing her eyelids.

They stayed like that for a long while, both waiting for sleep to come to Nellie. She turned over when her back tired, and Sweeney rubbed small circles between her shoulders with a tense, routine tenderness. Nellie supposed she preferred it that way, not risking the vulnerability of true sentiments. But an hour passed, and her consciousness hadn't even flirted with sleep. Sweeney had ceased comforting her, and finally gave up.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked. "I'm not going to stay up with you all night." Nellie turned her head and looked up at him with unfocused eyes.

"I can't help it, you know I can't…"

"You're obviously exhausted, so what plagues your mind? Am I to assume my Mrs. Lovett isn't as clever as she thinks she is? If your problem's the girl, she already knows."

Nellie's mind gasped, but no outward reaction came from her. Just silence.

Sweeney continued. "The poor thing figured it out herself; I found her snooping around wanting to see if it was true." He paused, sure that Nellie would react, but she remained oddly still. "I gave her what she wanted to know, and also the consequences if we were revealed. I dare say she only complied for your sake, more than her own. How you could raise such a noble child, I'll never know."

What had she done? It was over and final, before she could admit it'd begun. Only with great strength could she keep her mind from fading away right then and there.

"Foolish… she's a foolish thing, nothing more. All this time…?"

"Only since last week. But it's no wonder she didn't confront you herself; it's been like living with one of Hell's furies since the last full moon."

Her behavior sounded much worse when she heard it vocalized by him.

"Oh, well, I… Then how come you still comfort me?"

"I know reason to-"

"It's more me than my condition, and you knew this whole time about Mara-"

"I know it's mostly just you, but not everyone will forgive you, I'm sure, so you'd do well to restrain yourself from now on." Sweeney placed a large hand on her abdomen, where he only felt a slight difference in shape so far. "And we have more troubles ahead. I'm counting on you to solve your own problems, rather than raising an unholy fuss for weeks."

Nellie smacked his hand away.

"How dare you? I'm not raising a fuss; I'm just in my way. What help were you, anyhow? We're sharing the same problems, the ones you helped create!" Sweeney suddenly put two fingers over her lips, reminding her that innocence slept none too heavily. She continued in a hushed tone as soon as they were taken away. "This isn't the first time I've been with child, I know what to expect. Just… give me some time for things to settle."

"And I've had a pregnant wife before, you remember." His expression became grimmer, if that was possible. "I, too, know what there is to expect."

"Oh, from one going through?" Nellie gave a dry chuckle. "Two are never the same, Mr. Todd. And this one is… Well, it's already difficult."

"Why, it is painful? Are you losing the child?"

"No, I'm just not as young as I was my last time." She felt her face flush. _And it hadn't been easier for me then, either._ "I'm the one who'll come out the worst when this is through, if at all."

"Well, for every man I dispose of, there are a few less women sharing your plight." Talk of his work lightened Sweeney's mood, and he began caressing her copper hair, the candlelight giving it an almost golden hue.

"You think so, huh? If one man is kept from doing the deed, one will take his place soon enough."

Nellie couldn't recall the rest of their chat, and soon found herself waking up to daylight. She was alone on the couch, but Sweeney had covered her with blankets before leaving her. No part of Nellie desired to get up and face life – she didn't even have the energy to see if the shop was being tended – so she lay an arm over her eyes and made her own night.

Floorboards creaked, and the scuffing of shoes was here and gone again several times. If any belonged to someone checking on Nellie, she couldn't tell. Not until she felt a body near her did she decide to look out. It was Mara, as she expected, and the girl startled when she saw her mother's eyes open.

"Oh, um, I was just seeing if you're alright…"

"I'm just trying to sleep," said Nellie, suddenly recognizing the sharpness to her tone. Bitterness seemed to excrete from her mouth naturally, like saliva. She tried again. "It's sweet you're checking on me, though."

"But, you've been asleep all afternoon." Mara's eyebrows were tense and her frown fearful, as though she wasn't sure her mother's sentiments were just the better to love you with, my dear. "I know you've been hiding things, and I know why, but you shouldn't."

Nellie frowned.

"I know, I've been a terrible mother, getting you into this mess…" Even though it was out now, she couldn't mention their business around the girl.

"You need to let me help now, alright? Can you let me do that?" Mara's hands were warm as they clasped Nellie's tightly. "Mr. Todd's told me everything, and about the baby. How you managed to get yourself into so much trouble I'll never know." Mara's solemn face made her seem like the scolding mother now. "I can't set things right, but I can try to keep you from stressing yourself to death."

"Hm, that's kind of you," said Nellie through an unintended yawn.

"Mother!"

"Alright, here, take it," Nellie hissed and yanked the bake house key off its chain. "It's your soul, not mine." Mara grabbed the key and held it stiffly.

"You need to eat. I'll have Toby bring something in for you."

"Hm." Nellie turned her nose up at the girl. Now she had no daughter, just another accomplice to manipulate her and to be manipulated in return, another to share the guilt and take the blame when the sowing led to reaping, another spot reserved in Hell. And the last thing this building needed was one more bitter, nagging woman.

Mara sighed at her mother's false airs and fled the room.

Nellie still felt everyone's withdrawn tension the next day, but she had a bit more focus, even if the customers were always twice as annoying as she'd remembered them.

"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Lovett! We missed you yesterday."

"Hello, boys." Nellie put on as sincere a smile as she could muster. "Toby, hurry with their ale, dear."

"Yes, ma'm." He didn't even glance at her.

"Oh, come now, dear, don't look so glum." She gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder, paying him some attention for the first time in a while. It perked him up somewhat, but Nellie was distracted again before she could offer another kind word.

"Is that you, Mrs. Lovett? It's certainly been a while, but I had to come see about these pies."

Nellie was disturbed by how friendly the stranger who spoke to her was, but part of her realized something was familiar –it was that girl, the midwife who delivered Mara, a woman now and suddenly in her shop looking pleased to see her. Nellie was less enthusiastic.

"Oh, God!" She hurried outside and started demanding pay from those sitting at the tables.

"We haven't even gotten out pies yet!"

"No matter, pay up front." When Nellie turned around the woman was still waiting for her.

"Um, Mrs. Lovett? I'm Lisette Smith, the one who-"

"I know who you are," Nellie hissed, trying to keep their interaction at a distance from the customers. "Toby! There are tables waiting outside, go see what they need." Lisette smirked at her as Nellie snapped out orders.

"You certainly do a lot of business, Mrs. Lovett. I hope you slow down a bit as the baby comes along-"

"What!" Nellie barely kept herself from shouting.

"I talked to your girl, she told me, said you hadn't seen a midwife yet."

Nellie's eyes searched the shop until she spotted Mara, who waved at her as she was bringing fresh pies out. Nellie gave her a gesture to let her know her days were numbered. Lisette continued without noticing. "It does my heart good knowing you kept her-"

"What did you tell her?" Nellie snapped, but the woman seemed to lack the ability to detect outrage.

"She told me you've been ill."

"So? You're not a physician. Mara, get those pies outside, don't just look at them!"

"Mrs. Lovett, let me examine you, I can come back this evening-"

"I already got their pay," Nellie shouted, trying to ignore Lisette, "have Toby bring the drinks. Just use the mugs from the other table." But she suddenly found she couldn't be distracted enough, and when she turned back around Lisette was still waiting patiently. "And what would you be able to do if something was wrong? I've never known a midwife yet who's been able to save my babes."

"No, but if it's you who needs saving, it's possible I could help," Lisette said. It made Nellie pause. Should she try to save herself? Was there a point?

"Well… I guess it couldn't hurt." What was the point of running the shop if she wasn't going to be around to enjoy the profit? But she still wasn't happy about the situation, and she ducked Mara into the backroom as soon as Lisette was served outside.

"What are you doing, telling everyone you please about my condition?"

Mara wormed out of Nellie's grip on her arm.

"You need to take care of yourself, mum, regardless of who finds out."

"That's my business, girl, not yours!" She smacked Mara across the face, causing her daughter to gasp in pain and outrage. "Know your place! I make the decisions here, not you!"

"Mother!" Mara screamed back. "What's gotten into you?"

"If you're going to harbor our secrets, you have to keep your mouth shut." Nellie found enough sense to lower her tone. "If you can't I'll have your tongue cut out and sell you to the whorehouse, do you understand me?"

Mara looked ready to shake her head, her face hardening up against tears.

"How can you say such things? I'm not going to put us in danger, but you're not well, and I'm just trying to help. Can't you see what you're doing?"

Nellie couldn't, and at this point she didn't have the will to. But there was no denying how awful she was being for little reason. For possibly the first time in her life she considered a sincere apology but, so late in the game, she didn't know how. "Well… I'm going to let her examine me. Will that make you happy?"

"Yes," said Mara, looking anything but happy. She left to serve the pies without being told.

That evening was the turning point she decided, and Nellie felt the uncertainty weighing down the air as she waited alone in her chamber. The others were out in the sitting room, none having the courage to keep her company. She was glad; these were decisions she had to make alone. And yet, what if nothing changed, could she handle it? She was neither brave nor cowardly enough for deliberate suicide, but she could play with it in her mind, reveling in the drama like a tragedian who dies, slow and tragic, and gets up again for curtain call. Cheap dramatics for an idle mind.

Leaving the others to fend for themselves, that was one solution, but the other took more risk and less finality. This could be her chance to abort the child, and then she could buy herself some time to escape before Sweeney found out. The question was where she could go, but it didn't matter if she could ensure her safety and Mara's… and Toby's, too.

Mara went back to her sewing after leading Lisette to Nellie's chamber, trying to keep her anxiety at bay by finishing the letting out of her mother's dress. It still fit but wouldn't for very long, and she might as well make the smaller adjustments before they had to pay a tailor. Toby sat on the floor by her, scrubbing fossilized grit off of the pans. Both worked quietly for a while as they tried to overhear any talk that might travel down the hall.

"Will mum be alright?" Toby finally asked in a small voice.

"Well, I really don't know, Toby."

"Is the baby what's made her so upset? I've tried to be as nice as I can, but it's like she's bewitched."

"That's not a nice thing to say," said Mara. "She's not possessed or other such nonsense, she's just overworked. She'll be okay once she gets a hold of herself."

"Hm." Toby thought it over. "But… what if it's because of Mr. Todd?"

Mara's pin missed the fabric.

"What?"

"I mean, you said he helped make the baby. I don't know much about what men and women do, but I've seen it on the streets, and it didn't look very nice for the lady." His young face was serious.

"Toby, what ruffians do on the streets isn't what couples do in their homes." Atleast, she didn't think it was.

"But, isn't it only right for married folks?"

Mara sighed. "That doesn't mean Mr. Todd attacked her. If she didn't want to be around him she wouldn't. You know how she is." She was glad Toby didn't question her again, because a moment later Sweeney came down from his room, stopping halfway on the stairs. He didn't speak, but he was watching the corridor when Nellie came out, and she looked frightened and somewhat dazed. All eyes were on her as she entered the parlor, but she just sat on the couch without saying a word.

"Well, things look okay so far," Lisette said cheerfully, interrupting the tension as she made to leave. "Okay as they can be, anyway. Just keep her well rested and fed, and make sure she doesn't work herself so hard or I'll have to put her on bed rest, alright?"

"Alright." Sweeney surprised them all by answering.

The midwife got what she came for, a handsome payment, so she didn't stay for tea. Still, her verdict seemed to have been okay enough, and Mara and Toby breathed a little easier. But what no one could figure was why Nellie continued to look so forlorn, as though she was disappointed in herself. She leaned her head back on the couch until she got a wrong-side-up view of Sweeney.

"If you were a kind man…" She meant to continue with, 'you'd have killed me by now,' but thought better of it. Sweeney took the half statement as a musing.

"Ah," he replied, "the great 'If.'"

Nellie had kept the baby against her judgment, for she couldn't bring herself to do otherwise. Still, the situation seemed to be settled, and Nellie fooled herself into thinking her daily life as it was might continue indefinitely. Sweeney and her were business partners; him the supplier, Nellie the outlet, and his homicidal desires were as a well that never dried up, which suited her just fine. After all, the motives were in a dead lock- his Johanna was gone, locked up who knows where, the Judge had vowed never to return, and Sweeney was blind to the family that he knew but not well enough.

Nellie nearly smirked when Mara passed through the parlor and he took no special notice; when the beggar woman went through the ashcans in their alley and Sweeney gazed off intently in another direction. Yes, the truth was on her tongue, but he could have seen it for himself if he wasn't so consumed by his own wrongs. Like a toy wound up, the rhythms were continuous and without foreseeable end, but such gears in motion run out of momentum eventually.


	5. Blood from the Seams

_Chapter 5 Blood from the Seams_

Almost over night Nellie found herself in a better mood, which continued into the following months, renewing the relish she had for her own fiendish cunning. She'd never respected a soul who entered her shop, and what was better than overcharging them and then watching as they became eager, willing cannibals? Suddenly the outward manner reflected what lay within, greed and the desire to feed off one another, and they did so with relish, every bite savored and deliberate. Punishment against their beings wasn't her original intent –the profit was fulfillment in the highest- but she liked the little bits of justification, assuring her that these swine deserved no less. And if she had no more than three months left before judgment, she wanted to cause as much sin and destruction as she could, she wanted to revel in her greed and truly be the Devil's agent; if the nuns and the beggars already called her such than so be it –she was a Witch devoid of soul, and a Woman devoid of submission.

She would cast a spell then, over the tea, with a little help from the apothecary. Nellie wasn't even sure why she'd decided this until she saw Sweeney sitting in her parlor, skimming over the paper without any real interest. Ah, that was it; the means were instructing her, rather than her using them. She would just have to be careful to track which cup was his, but of course her handle was always turned to the left.

"Here's the tea, dear," she said with the delivery, and then sat herself down heavily next to Sweeney. There wasn't any other way for her to sit now that her stomach had started growing substantially. It was lucky winter was upon them; she could bundle herself up enough to hide the growth, something she wanted to do from herself most of all. But she could tell Sweeney was eyeing her whenever she had trouble transferring her weight into a new position, as he was doing now. "How was your work today, Mr. Todd? It's hard to keep track of my stock when I don't do the butchering myself."

"The blood flowed freely," said he, "as always."

"Oh, I'm sure it did." Nellie wanted to reach for her cup but decided it was too far away, and Sweeney only watched her, having yet to reach for his own. She leaned back again with a sigh. "And how's my Mara? Are you treating her well down there?"

"Of course."

"I'm sure you're kind to her. Like a daughter, right?" She gave him a coy smile and leaned closer. "Just think, when we're married we'll already have a family, like we'd always been a couple."

"Hm."

"You love me, don't you, Mr. Todd? Just a little bit?" She wasn't pleading, no, she was taunting.

"Yes."

"You have to, you know, if you love this." Nellie took Sweeney's hand and placed it on her stomach. His eyes widened, for his speculations hadn't prepared him for its actual size and feel. She felt his fingers twitch.

"But it… It can't replace Johanna."

"Oh, your Johanna," said Nellie with a sharp breath. "Why? Because she won't be a little Lucy?" She decided to refer to the fetus as female, hoping it would lie heavily on Sweeney's mind. She watched him intently as his manner tensed. "Your Johanna is not Lucy, you know that, don't you? The way you talk of her, pine for her it's… it's… Well, you're no better then the Judge, is what I mean."

His hand had traveled to her knee, and his grip tightened until it pained her, but he said nothing in denial. Though Nellie gasped and took a shallow breath, she continued to smirk at Sweeney until he let off. Still, she was surprised; he hadn't lay more than a gentle hand on her for sometime. He was tiring of their false relationship that much was apparent.

"I don't know why you bother," Nellie continued. "You could have a new life here, with me, pretending every throat you slit is the Judge's but giving up on the real thing. Say you did kill him, then what? They'll find you and hang you in a second. You'll leave me and your daughters, is that what you want?" Maybe it was, his lack of reaction seemed to say. She put on a worried face to hide her satisfaction. "Do you know, I admired you while my Albert was still alive. Did you know that?" She leaned close again, her forehead by his ear. He smelled of shaving lather and the salt of dried blood. "Not like love, oh no, just… You were so kind to your wife. I was envious, I guess." Nellie's lips quivered in a faint smile, and she saw his eyes finally look to hers. "Did you ever strike her, as many husbands do?"

"No."

"Do you think it's right for any man to?"

"Depends on the wife." He looked away, ignoring Nellie's sudden glare that could kill.

"Oh, pray tell, Mr. Todd, what kind? Ones that lie, or are too slow, adulterous, dumb, lazy, or are they all the same to you? Tell me, Mr. Todd!" She screamed in his ear and he jumped, watching her in terror.

"What's gotten into you now?"

"What's gotten into – what's gotten into me?" She leaned back away from him, chuckling in short gasps. "Very nice." Didn't he know? She was sure he did, or maybe he'd forgotten. It wasn't seared to his mind like it was hers. "When I was a young wife all those years ago, did I deserve a beating every day?"

He had looked away, but his gaze suddenly snapped to her again. There was still a bit of gray in his eyes that hadn't been drowned out by darkness.

"I wouldn't know."

"But you did know, you- Oh, never mind." Nellie leaned forward to retrieve the cups, but he took her arm.

"Don't be foolish, Mrs. Lovett. It's not what men are expected to do, interfere with one another's home affairs. I-"

Nellie heaved herself to her feet, cups in hand, and promptly dumped Sweeney's tea in his lap. She couldn't be sure what he was about to say, but damned if she was going to let him apologize. That wasn't what she wanted; she wanted his pain, his agony, not his sympathy. It would be an oxymoron to their existence if the wrongs against one another weren't repaid in blood.

Sweeney was still staring down at his wet trousers when Nellie left the room.

What was she thinking? Obviously nothing sane. She could have ended everything right here, and while it would have upheavaled her life-style, killing Sweeney would have freed her from this mess. But she couldn't do it. The blood she lusted for was warm, and she wanted him to use, his flesh to serve her. It was a desire too great to disobey. She hadn't even put in enough poison to kill him, and Sweeney never drank her tea anyway. Feeling self-thwarted, she practically tossed the teacups into a wash bin in the kitchen, startling Toby and Mara as they did their chores. Nellie stood and watched them, sighing airily, with a hand pressed against the small of her back to relieve it. She didn't bother asking how things were going.

"I brought back some of your pans from the tinker, mum," Mara finally said, tentatively. "They're in the cupboard."

"That's fine, dear." Nellie sighed again, remaining oddly quiet.

"Is everything alright, mum? Do you need anything?" Toby paused from his mopping and stared at her with large brown eyes, like a startled rabbit.

"No, dear."

But he was still watching her, not giving the mop any attention as he leaned it against the wall. Something was strange and urgent about his manner, and he came forward to take her hand. Mara looked away, as she always did when the boy was being loving to her mother.

"You look sad, mum." He squeezed her palm. "Did Mr. Todd upset you?"

Nellie smiled but pulled away.

"No, dear, I'm just weary." She placed a hand on her stomach. "I feel heavier everyday."

"Here." Toby dragged up a chair and helped Nellie into it. Then he knelt by her side. "Mum… can I… can I touch it?" Nellie looked down to see he meant her stomach.

"Go ahead, dear, it won't do any harm."

Still, his hand was as careful as though it would. And he was so intent, so focused on the bulge as his fingers caressed the fabric of her dress. Nellie could tell he had something to say, and wished he would hurry up with it. For a moment there was only the slosh of water as Mara continued her laundry with a quickened pace.

Toby looked up again. "I want to protect you, mum. You and the baby."

"From what, dear?"

"From… men, bad men. Demons that would want to harm you."

Mara paused, both arms in the wash bucket. Her and Nellie's eyes met.

"Well, that's very sweet of you, child," said Nellie. "If I'm ever attacked by one I'll let you know."

"But, what if you didn't know? What if someone you thought you could trust was planning against you?"

Nellie's cheek twitched, thinking of the people she herself had plotted against. Premeditation. "Well, that's a silly thing to say. Isn't that a silly thing to say, Mara?" The girl grunted. "If anyone's out to get me it's my girl; look at that wicked thing, all covered in suds."

"But, mum…" Toby scoot closer to her. "It's… it's Mr. Todd what's got me worried. I know he's the babe's father, but he doesn't seem like a father, doesn't act like a good father, does he? He seems rather… not nice to you, sometimes."

"Oh, he's just worried, dear, he's not cruel."

"But, mum-" Toby grabbed her hands, but winced from how ice cold they were, and Nellie took the opportunity of his falter to pull away.

"What are you going on for? You just don't understand things, dear, no need to fret." She looked to Mara for help, but the girl was choosing to not pay attention. "And, I… Would you like a bon-bon, dear?" Nellie reached down the front of her dress to fish out her purse.

"Is that what you call your breasts, mum?" asked Mara, choosing to look up. "Bon-bons?"

"No!" Nellie meant to hiss under her breath, but it came out more frantic than she'd intended. Toby stared wide-eyed at her again, but in a breath she'd shifted back to a smile. Nellie pulled the purse out and fingered through it. "Oh… Well, I'm afraid I must have eaten them all, dear. I really shouldn't have so many, but I just can't help myself sometimes…"

"That's- that's-" Toby gasped, and Nellie wondered if he was choking. "Signor Pirelli's purse!" In a flash it was back down Nellie's dress.

"What was that, dear?" The fool boy must have seen her with it a dozen times, and now he'd decided to recognize it. Mara paused to watch them, biting her lip.

"It's just what I've been thinking," Toby said too quietly. He knew Sweeney could be in the next room. "That's his purse, which means… But how did _you_ get it?"

Not realizing his implication, Nellie twisted her mind for a plausible explanation.

"It's just something Mr. T gave me for my birthday. Isn't that sweet of him, to give me something early?" But her response made Toby blanch even more.

"That's it, then, it _is_ Mr. Todd. I bet he said he got it from a pawn shop or something like, but…" He glanced at Mara, and then came closer to Nellie's ear. "It was in Mr. Todd's parlor that the guv'nor disappeared. I wouldn't expect you to be imaging something so vile, mum, but you have to believe me that it's foul play."

Perhaps Nellie should have played the part and feigned surprise, but her expression froze as though she had a bitter taste in her mouth. She was done being kind, easy enough, yet she was angry that more destruction would come about without her calling on it herself. She cleared her throat.

"Now, Toby, you need to listen to your Aunt Nellie, alright? You can help me –us- but first you have to go hide in my bedchamber and wait for me there. Can you do that?"

"Why, what are you-?"

"Just trust me, dear," said Nellie softly as she looked into Toby's eyes, perhaps imitating a gesture of honestly she'd once seen. And while Toby only looked more frightened by her gaze, he seemed set to prove his love.

"If you think it's what I should do, I will, but not for too long." He rose to his feet, brushing his hand across her shoulder. "But, be careful, mum, please."

Nellie listened for the door to close down the hall. Then she stood up as quickly as she could to approach Mara, and the girl got up, drying her arms on her dress, to meet Nellie half way.

"Make sure he doesn't come out, Mara, while I get Mr. Todd."

Mara gasped, grabbing Nellie by the sleeve. "You can't, mum!"

"I have to, there's no choice. The boy'll reveal us and we'll all be hanged, you know that."

"But…" Mara whipped her head around frantically, searching, and her grip tightened as Nellie tried to pull away. "What if we- We could say he'd gone mad, accusing everyone of murder, and put him away at Fogg's."

Nellie hissed slightly as she breathed through her teeth.

"If Mr. Todd found out we'd be-"

"I know." The girl had become surprisingly calm, her eyebrows firm. _Benjamin's eyebrows?_ Nellie wondered. _If nothing else she has his mind for outwitting me_.

"But we won't let him find out," said Mara. "He thinks Toby's never suspected; we'll keep him thinking that."

"God…" Nellie hung her head and bobbed it back up again. "Fine, if you're so sure, take him." Mara took a few steps backwards without looking, and then righted her path. Nellie wasn't finished. "This isn't a game, you realize, child? I didn't want you part of this because me and Mr. Todd are desperate lunatics at the end of our wits, headed for Hell at any rate, but you have so much more to lose."

She didn't have any way of knowing whether the girl had heard.

Mara stole Toby away from the shop quicker than she could recognize; her mind was calculating every fleeting second, and while to her their escape was too many long minutes, to Toby it was only so many breaths. Mara barely glanced at the lad as she towed him through the darkness of Fleet Street, but he was soon whimpering so pathetically she had to side step into an alley. The stank was denser here, as assaulting to her nostrils as the fog was to her sight, but at least she couldn't see the filth they trod over. The closest sounds were the drunken cries that echoed from the tavern, nearly a block away.

"Now, Toby, don't lose your nerve." Her own voice was quivering in her throat, despite how focused she kept her mind. It didn't help that Toby had grabbed her in a tight hug and wouldn't let go.

"We can't just leave without mum! Where are we going? Are we going to tell the Bow Street Runners?"

"No, Toby, now look at me, listen to me, boy." She held his chin firmly and pulled it back from her chest. "We can't save mum because she already knows; she helps Mr. Todd."

"He makes her? Why wouldn't she try to stop-"

"No, Toby, no." She'd planned on giving him the truth, but it now seemed too harsh, cruel, like feigning the tenderness of a kiss before bashing his head against the wall. "She-he… The flying squad won't be able to stop him, nor the inspectors, he hides everything too well-"

"Everything?" Toby's voice cracked. "He's done it more?"

Mara swallowed, and found this was where her lies turned to the evading of truth. After all, her mother had taught her to always leave a route open to innocence, no matter how detoured.

"Never mind that, just realize we don't have proof enough to get him hanged. And if he finds out we tried to turn him in, he'll kill us, even mum."

From his shocked face she could tell she'd sent her intent home. He wouldn't risk Nellie being harmed.

"You have to get away now, Toby, or else I'll have to take you to Fogg's asylum. Please go."

Clearly she'd scared the boy out of his mind, because he didn't protest, he just shot off down the street, leaving Mara to listen to the clapping steps as they echoed off every surface.

All was dark in the shop when Mara returned, all but the parlor, where Sweeney was talking to a young man. She hid herself in a shadow just behind the doorway, but all she overheard was some nonsense about the differences in hair types. It was ridiculous how suited Sweeney was to lecture on the subject, and almost humorous in its repetition of what she knew about him. In truth, she was so terrified she could laugh at him. _You need a new hobby, Mr. Todd. Hair and death, what kind of purposes were those?_ But Nellie's whispers from her chamber startled Mara out of her eavesdropping.

"Get in here, girl, leave the men to their business."

Mara didn't move at first as she stared at her mother with a desperate grin, an anxious parting of the lips. Nellie had seen the look before, in her own reflection on windowpanes or newly washed pans. In that moment, just before she grabbed the girl's wrist to pull her in, she couldn't remember hating anyone's expression more in her entire life.

Nellie closed the door behind her and shoved Mara furthered into the room. "You weren't gone long."

"Oh, I… well-"

"Never mind, whatever you've done is done. Now keep quiet." She opened the door again, just a crack to hear what Sweeney was up to. But Anthony was already gone, and Nellie huffed impatiently. "Well, there he goes, gone and left and I didn't get to hear the end of it."

"Who was that?" Mara whispered behind her. Nellie shut the door once more as she turned.

"The sailor lad; he's going to get Mr. Todd's daughter, it sounds like. Try to get her, that it. Again." Lovett licked her thumb and scrubbed at a smudge on Mara's cheek. "That's all he talks about sometimes, that Johanna."

"Well, she _is_ his daughter," said Mara as she tried to shoo away her mother's preening. "Of course he wants her back."

"Yes, yes, now why don't you go on to bed, dear?"

"Aren't you going to bed, too, mum?"

"I'm going to go see what Mr. Todd's up to." Nellie turned Mara around to face her bed before heading to the door. "If Mr. Todd thinks he can meddle in my parlor without me knowing about it, he has more nerve than a man should dare have."

Sweeney was hunched over the harmonium when Nellie came to the doorway, writing furiously, as if he were playing a wild, ravenous piece on the instrument. His muttering was so loud he could have been dictating to his own hands.

"I have… No, Johanna will be-"

"Excuse me, Mr. Todd." Nellie cleared her throat. Sweeney lost his grip and the pen rolled down the keys, but he didn't turn.

"Not now, woman, I must make haste. Leave me."

"You can't banish me from my own parlor."

"Why don't you turn in for the night?"

"I can't go to bed this early." Nellie had already proceeded to the couch. "And Mrs. Smith told me to keep my feet up at this hour; you know that. I can only do that properly on the couch." She was already making herself comfortable, and once she did there was no getting her up again, so Sweeney only growled rabidly as he continued the letter. Nellie took her figures book from the end table and tried to busy herself with checking her earnings, but she couldn't find a comfortable place to prop the book with her stomach in the way, so the idea was abandoned.

From his tone, manner and what facts she could discern, she knew Sweeney was close to achieving some part of his vengeance, for nothing else could excite him so.

"Mr. T, whatever you're up to, is haste really necessary?"

"Don't play your games, woman." With a whip of his arm he flourished his signature and then jumped to his feet. "You've stalled me long enough, more than half a year, but now wrongs will be repaid."

Nellie sat up as much as she could, one arm behind her to prop herself up. "You're going after the Judge, aren't you? Do you know what kind of danger you'll put us in? Put _me_ in?"

Sweeney paused before the door, watching Nellie, who seemed so prone and pregnant without her layers of coats on. Did he remember her as she was when he first moved in, a skinny girl of barely twenty, when she wore a giddy smile from anxiety, when her eyes were brighter, when she was always with child but never a mother? How fruitless it had been, all of the pain and discomfort; death and blood back then were just as prevalent in her life as they were now.

"It's what I have to do, Mrs. Lovett. I thought you understood."

"Sacrificing yourself for it, fine, but your family, your chance to be with Johanna?" She was really just pulling at straws now, hoping something would strike a cord with him, but he saw through her ploy.

"Save your breath and your energy, Mrs. Lovett, the child deserves it more."

All Nellie could do was watch Sweeney leave, slamming the door behind him. She lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, not having the strength to pray, just hoping she would find a way out of this somehow. _But you can't, Helen_, a small voice whispered in her mind. _No matter what you do you're stuck. If you're imprisoned they'll keep you until the baby's born before hanging you, and even if you escape the birth will still kill you in the end. Remember death, Helen?_ She remembered, how clear it had made her feel, how complete as the darkness was turning into an overwhelming light. But she was revived just before it had taken her completely, and the midwife told her that her heart had stopped for nearly a minute. The feeling would haunt her always, how much she longed for it when she was pulled away. And Albert… He'd seemed so frightened, as pale as Nellie was from the blood she'd lost. But his distress never left after that day, it lingered and deepened, turning into hate, like a wound that develops a coarse, grotesque scar. He'd lost every one of his sons, but was he also distraught that continuing to try for one would kill not only the next child but also his wife? She held this fragile thought close, for it kept her sane.

It seemed like the lighter and more disturbed her sleep was at night, the heavier Nellie slept at any other given moment, and such moments were becoming more frequent. She barely stirred when the Beadle entered her parlor, and Mara had been trying to persuade him to leave for nearly ten minutes before Nellie was woken by the pounding of the same group of notes several times in a row. She blinked for a moment, waiting for her eyes to focus, and when she sat up and looked over the back of the couch, she saw Mara leaning against the harmonium as the Beadle was feeling her chest and up her skirts. Nellie had never thought of Beadle Bamford as an actively sexual man, only as someone who liked to watch, but if he enjoyed what he was doing now there was nothing about his manner that betrayed it. He might as well have been repairing the instrument, and the girl just got in the way.

All Nellie could think to say was, "Huh," as she wondered why they were doing this here. That was enough for Mara to notice her, and she turned her head like she'd been caught.

"Mum! Mum, I…" She freed herself from the Beadle, whose only response was to smooth his jacket and sit at the harmonium's bench. "Beadle Bamford's here to see about the smell from our bake house, and I told him we can't get in until Mr. Todd gets back with the key, so…" Mara frowned anxiously to ask if she'd lied well enough. Nellie nodded to her, then sighed and tried to stretch her back.

"And you were keeping him busy in the mean time, right?"

Mara leaned over the couch back, close to Nellie's ear. "There wasn't much I could do, he just started… And I thought he might leave if…"

The Beadle was trying out the keys, humming a tune. Nellie put her arms around Mara and used her as leverage to pull herself up enough to stand, causing the girl to nearly topple over.

"Mum! Just ask me to help you-"

"Shush, dear." Nellie got to her feet and was about to approach the Beadle, when Sweeney burst through the door, looking hurried and out of breath. "Mr. Todd!" she nearly screeched, rushing at him. "Beadle Bamford's here to inspect our bake house."

"Oh?"  
"Yes. And we've had to keep him waiting; why don't you give him a free shave for his troubles?" But there was no need for Nellie to voice the idea, for it was already coursing through Sweeney. His posture straightened, and he, Nellie and Mara all stared at the Beadle. The man plinked a random note of discord as he half-heartedly returned the gaze.

"Yes," said Sweeney. "Come with me, Beadle Bamford, I'll give you a fine grooming, on the house." The Beadle took the bait without a breath of hesitation, obviously used to accepting bribes and having no shame in expecting them. The two men climbed up to the barbershop, shutting themselves off from the women below with a slam of the door.

"Do men do this all the time, mum?" Mara asked as she stared after them. "Destroy each other?"

Nellie chuckled openly, giving her daughter a gentle pat on the cheek.

"Dear, we're doing just the same, you have to realize that by now."

Mara hesitated.

"Mum, I… I really don't want to do this anymore."

Nellie came up behind her daughter, rubbing up and down the girl's arms.

"It's too late now. Mr. Todd's out to kill the Judge as we speak." Nellie kissed Mara's ear and held her as close as her stomach would allow. "I don't know what we'll do then; we'll be found out that much is certain."

The girl stiffened, unnerved by the physical attention she was receiving. Growing up, she'd barely even been hugged by Nellie, and now this, she couldn't comprehend.

She was the only one who jumped when the chute banged and the body slid past.

(I want to make a note about the line "…and truly be the Devil's agent; if the nuns and the beggars already called her such…" According to what I've read, even as late as the 19th century convents were still teaching that left-handers were agents of Satan. If you've caught the few descriptions of Nellie's handed-ness, you'll know I've made her a lefty, and she wasn't forced to change as a child for whatever reason. I only made this decision as a fellow lefty, of course.)


	6. The Shroud

_Chapter 6: The Shroud_

(1)

The three stared down at the Beadle's body sprawled on the bake house floor, his pooling and smeared trail of blood beginning to dry over the layers come before it. If it weren't for his split throat he may have just closed his eyes for a moment; his expression in death looked no different than when he'd lived. Nellie smirked over the idea and kicked his head, causing it to shift forward like a heavy sack.

"We'll have to dispose of him completely," Sweeney told them. "Clothing, hair, bones, every bit of him. Char his flesh to dust."

"They'll still know he was here," said Nellie, deep in her throat.

"They have no proof," he snapped at her. "They only have our word. Now let's get started." The last bit was directed at Mara, who nodded and quickly bent to take hold of the Beadle's coat, helping Sweeney drag him to the furnace. Nellie thought the girl might take pleasure in destroying her assaulter, but she showed none, just a frown as grim as her task.

Within moments, however, there were clunks from above, and they paused mid-breath as rushed footsteps traveled to the second floor. Sweeney's voice was harsh and low, like one of his hacksaws as it ground through a femur.

"Not a sound down here, you understand?"

Mara and Nellie nodded, not daring to blink as Sweeney slipped out of the light emitted from the oven's furnace, barely creaking the door. They didn't move for a long moment.

"Have we been found?" Mara whispered. "Have we been found? Have we?"

"I-I need to sit down." Nellie looked about for somewhere to rest, afraid she would go into labor if she didn't. There were more pounding footsteps, scuffs and scrapes, and a sudden calm as two pairs of steps came down to the first floor, but only one went back up again.

"Maybe it's alright," said Mara with a heavy breath. "It sounds like he's handling the situation-"

Both women shrieked as a body shot down to them – the body of Anthony. His torso twisted in the chute as he fell out, landing on the Beadle, and the two became one mass of sprawled limbs. Nellie stared at the growing pile before her mind put the situation together, and her gaze shot back up to her daughter.

"The sailor lad, Mara! He must have come back with-" The rest was lost in her throat as she suddenly gathered her skirts and hurried up the stairs as best she could. But she paused just at the door, careful to open and close it discreetly.

A voice, female. "Where's Anthony? He said we had to leave right away-"

"I'm afraid he's left you."

"He wouldn't!"

Johanna's voice squeaked and quivered, scaring Nellie more than the corpses could. She fixed her hair to not appear so disheveled and stepped into the room. The girl was dressed in sailor's clothes, as though stuffing her hair in a cap was fooling anyone, and Sweeney looked stiff and awkward as he tried to comfort her. Nellie cleared her throat and the two turned her way.

"Mrs. Lovett." It was hard to tell if Sweeney was annoyed by the interruption. "This is Johanna; Anthony left her in my room while I was out, but it seems he's abandoned her at the last moment."

"Oh, poor dear." Nellie tried to frown sympathetically.

"Mrs. Lovett is my neighbor; she'll accommodate us."

Johanna protested, "But, I really should go find Anthony-"

"It's dangerous out there, for a young girl." Sweeney pulled off her cap, letting her pale locks fall loose. Johanna continued to look as jittery as a spooked sparrow.

"You won't turn me back to the Judge, will you, Mr. Todd?" the girl asked.

"Of course not, you can stay here with us." Sweeney looked to Nellie. "Can't she, Mrs. Lovett?"

"Yes, we'd be happy to have her."

But events continued to unfold at an alarming rate as the bell on the outdoor stairs rang. The effect it had on Sweeney was electric, and Nellie knew what was going on immediately.

"Stay down here Johanna, I have to see to a customer. Mrs. Lovett, don't you have to return to your bake house?"

He was waiting for her response before he ran up to the shop, but Nellie could feel her body panicking against her will.

"I… I don't think I can." She managed to get herself to the couch before the dizziness overtook her.

"Mrs. Lovett!" Sweeney snapped at her but had to flee to his shop before he could follow up his outburst. Nellie closed her eyes and breathed slowly for a moment, trying to wait out the pain that was coursing through her chest. When she looked up again Johanna hadn't moved at all and was weeping openly.

"It's all right, dear," Nellie said with a heavy sigh. "Why don't you sit for a bit?" Johanna did as though she'd been given an order, rubbing her eyes on her sleeves.

"I was so close to leaving… Anthony and I were to be wed and he would take me away… Why would he just leave me?"

"Dear," said Nellie, patting Johanna's shoulder. "Believe me, being wed is more of a prison than a saving grace." Her words seemed to have a profound effect on the girl.

"What? But, my father's home was a prison and Anthony would take me away."

"Yes, to his home where you would belong to him and do as he tells you."

As Johanna stared at her, perplexed by the revelation, Nellie heard her mind ask, _Then why do you want to marry Mr. Todd? Are you so sure you can manipulate him? So desperate to be dominant?_

Johanna might have replied if Sweeney hadn't suddenly rushed out of his room and down the stairs.

"Mrs. Lovett! We have business in the bake house. Now."

"Mr. Todd, I'm afraid I'm not well enough to join you." Nellie sighed to emphasize her state. "All this rushing about is too much for me."

Sweeney stood over her for a moment, taking in harsh breaths.

"Is it the child? Is it time?"

"No no no." Nellie waved airily at him and brushed hair out of her face, as it was rapidly coming undone. "I just need to rest a bit."

"Alright, just make sure nobody else comes around-"

"Mr. Todd," Nellie interrupted him. "Don't you have something you want to explain to Johanna?" Sweeney frowned, meeting his daughter's eyes. Hers were so clear, like Lucy's.

"Yes. Yes… But later, not yet." He turned and disappeared down into the bake house. Nellie huffed to herself, wondering how a murderer could still be such a confrontation avoider.

"What?" Johanna piped up innocently. "Explain what?"

"Oh, well I probably shouldn't – Oh, okay." She turned her knees towards Johanna and leaned forward a bit. "What Mr. Todd really should be telling you is that he's your real father."

Johanna's expression seemed more worried than surprised.

"What? But… my real father's dead, like my mother."

"So the Judge has told you. But he also locked you away in an asylum. Do you really think he's trust worthy?"

"Well, no…" The girl pursed her lips together in some silly pout, which was probably her way of looking doubtful. "I know he isn't. But, why would he take me as his ward if I had a father?"

"Because the Judge wanted you for himself, because he… couldn't have your mother."

Johanna paused, Nellie's words suddenly making sense. "And that's why he wants to marry me? He was just waiting for me to grow up…"

"I'm afraid so, dear. But, you can have your freedom here, and the Judge won't take you back, we'll make sure."

"Really?" That seemed enough for the girl, and she suddenly leaned over to hug Nellie. "Then if Anthony doesn't return you can be my parents, whether Mr. Todd's my real father or not." She let off, looking Nellie up and down. "Are you Mr. Todd's new wife, then?" From her tone it wasn't clear if Johanna's question was sincere or if she just wanted to force herself to play along.

"Oh, where'd you get that idea, dear?" Nellie smiled innocently and shifted away from Johanna. The pain was subsiding but she still couldn't convince herself to stand.

"Well, you kept saying 'we,' and I thought… maybe…"

"That I would be your mother?" Nellie cocked her head slightly, her half-smile as wistful as it was crooked. "Is that what you want, child?"

"Well, I just-"

"We're almost married, then, if that's what you'd like to know." Nellie's voice was a bit quieter, and she looked down at her stomach. "And this is your half-sibling, I suppose." Johanna covered her mouth in shock, but she seemed to be smiling under her hand.

When Sweeney and Mara finally came back from their work they were exhausted, but the evidence was disposed of entirely. The four of them sat together in the parlor, the women on the couch and Sweeney in a chair, and the situation was explained all around. Johanna seemed more hesitant about the idea when her father was actually before her, but she forced herself to take to it. She didn't have much of a choice. And although they were in a precarious situation, Nellie could only feel satisfaction from having a full parlor room for perhaps the first time. A man, children, another on the way; the fulfillment it gave her was almost unnerving. She'd never felt anything close to it, even if it was fake. Mara, on the other hand, seemed to feel quite differently about the situation, and she huddled closer to Nellie as Sweeney told Johanna about Lucy and what the Judge had done to her.

Nellie had almost drifted off again when hearing her name brought her back.

"And will Mrs. Lovett be my mother now?" Johanna asked.

Sweeney faltered, shocked by the question. "Is that what you want?"

"Oh, yes! I've always longed for a mother. And she's already told me you two are nearly wed."

"She did, did she?" Sweeney gave Nellie a look she knew too well, the one he made when he realized she was meddling with him. This hadn't been her intention, for the girl to want Nellie, but she wondered why such a fiendish plot hadn't crossed her mind before. She smiled at Sweeney, not with her usual coy or smugness, but with a satisfaction the man couldn't decipher. "We'll decide tomorrow," he continued. "Why don't the girls turn in for the night? Johanna, you can take my bed upstairs."

"But, can't I-" The girl looked between Sweeney and Nellie. "Can't I stay down here, with Mrs. Lovett?"

"Of course, dear," Nellie replied. "You can stay with Mara in her bed. Why don't you two go on?"

As the girls left, Nellie leaned against the couch arm, gnawing her knuckle as she watched Sweeney. He had his hands over his forehead, his fingers digging into scalp until his hair stood up more than usual.

"You're a bloody wonder, Mrs. Lovett," he growled after a time.

"I should think so."

"Johanna… My Johanna. She's finally here, finally mine and she'll barely look at me."

"We'll, you're not exactly easy on the eyes," said Nellie. "What with your brooding and hunching and wayward hair. And with all your rushing about and wild antics tonight, I'm sure you've scared her out of her wits."

"She wants a mother, she wants you."

"I can assure you I hadn't planned that." Nellie watched Sweeney's hands as they flexed, ready to strangle her. "How could I?"

"I should have killed you when I had the chance…"

"Hm." Nellie shifted herself and looked at her fingernails. "And you want to kill me now but you can't, can you? Because you'd take a mother away from Johanna for a second time?"

Sweeney jumped to his feet and was suddenly standing over Nellie.

"I've had enough!" He grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet, holding her in a threatening grip. "We're leaving tomorrow, all of us, and from now on you're doing as I say! Do you really think the baby means that much to me?"

"Mr. Todd - please!" Nellie tried to twist free but Sweeney pulled her closer, breathing in her face.

"I know who you are, Mrs. Lovett, what you are, and if you think I have any love or respect for you at all, you're fooling yourself." Nellie tried to bite his hand but he smacked her jaw and then grabbed her around the neck. "I don't know what you hope to gain, woman. I know you lust for wealth and for me, but what do the children have to do with it?"

He let go of Nellie and she stumbled back, hunching over as she gasped for air. She had to wait for her voice to return but still couldn't straighten.

"Do I feign womanhood, Mr. Todd?" She held her stomach even though the pain was in her chest. "What I want will always be what a woman wants, and you know nothing about that. Why can't I desire a family?"

"I didn't think you were capable of love."

"And you think you are? You don't love Johanna, Mr. Todd, you lust for her as a woman. You killed the Judge to take his place."

Sweeney grabbed for her again, but she lost her balance and he was forced to hold her. There was no way to threaten her when she was slumped over his shoulder. "Mrs. Lovett! Don't do this now, have some strength." But she didn't move or try to stand on her own.

"Mr. Todd… the baby is killing me," she said, hoarsely. "I've hid it as best I can, but… I don't know how I'll be in another month, or less. What will you do with me then?"

Sweeney took her shoulders and leaned Nellie back to get a look at her.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Haven't I grown pale and too weary to even stand for long? I hardly sleep anymore, and you've said yourself that I seem to grow thinner every day."

Sweeney watched her, his gaze switching between her stomach and her eyes, and then he rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "If you're going to die before the baby's born, then there's no point in keeping you safe, is there?"

He left her with that thought, one that profoundly disturbed Nellie.

She sat on the couch again after Sweeney went back up to his room, getting ready to have a long pondering session with herself. But there seemed to be no need; the only thought that filled her mind was of leaving. Sweeney was going to make them all flee tomorrow, or perhaps sooner, she couldn't be sure. And if she went with him she would be at his whim as he'd threatened. That, above all things, Nellie couldn't handle. Not now, after so many years by herself and so many months of having asserted her dominance over Sweeney. He'd always had strength over her, but now he'd finally shown that he also had the will to control her. A will she hadn't known existed.

_That was all you've ever wanted, Helen,_ she told herself, _to prove you didn't need to be rescued by Benjamin. He couldn't save you because he was weak, and of all men him you could control, and show that there was atleast one man whom you didn't obey_. But she couldn't have that, and now not even Mara mattered.

Nellie quickly put on a couple coats and left the shop right then and there. She had nowhere to go, but she was willing to take her chances. How far she traveled that night she'd never know.

(2)

Toby felt Nellie's face as she slept, tracing her eyebrows with his finger, pushing her eyelid up enough to expose her iris, colored such a light shade of hazel that it resembled an unnatural yellow. The prodding only caused Nellie to stir a bit, and Toby continued his caressing, wanting to pull her apart, wanting to see what was inside of her that made him love her so. He'd always searched for kindness and affection, but now he was oddly concerned that he couldn't comprehend it.

He bent low to her, so that his lips met hers, barely enough to moisten them. He wasn't sure what he wanted to get out of the action, but it excited him. He sat up, and was still feeling his lips in wonder when Nellie woke. Blinking, she opened her eyes and stared above her, frozen for a moment. Now that Toby had seen her eyes so close up, he could still tell how their color glowed, not just as flat orbs, but as bowls filled with amber liquid. He realized it was why he had so often feared her gaze even as he longed for it.

(3)

Nellie found herself in a cramped wooden room, one that was oddly closed in and slightly tilted. She looked down at the stiff, grimy blanket she was wrapped in, and then saw Toby crouched next to her.

"Mum?" he asked. Nellie only watched him for a moment, not sure if he was real. "Mum?" he said again, patting her cheek. "You okay, mum? Can you wake up?"

"Mmm… Yes, yes, I'm awake." Nellie sighed and rubbed her eyes deeply. "Should I ask where I am or am I going to regret it?" The look Toby gave her was one of worry, at best.

"You don't remember last night?"

Nellie shook her head slowly; not many good conversations had started with that question.

"I found you wandering the streets," Toby told her. "And you seemed a bit out of your head. I thought you were ill, but I didn't know what to do with you, so I brought you here. What did Mr. Todd do to you?"

"I- what? He hasn't…"

Toby whimpered. "I should have been there to protect you, mum." He hugged Nellie around her shoulders and shoved his face into the blanket. "I should have come back, but Mara said Mr. Todd would kill you if I tried to stop him, and I was scared and…"

"Oh, come now, dear." Nellie put her hand on the back of his head and gave it a few pats. "I'm alright, you did nothing wrong."

Did she really have such a motherly semblance that every child she came across was seeking comfort from her? Or were they so mother deprived that they didn't know any better? Either way, Nellie took little satisfaction from the affections, still feeling no more like a maternal figure than she ever had. Even raising Mara hadn't slaked her desire, but maybe she didn't know what it was she was searching for in the first place. After all, Nellie herself hadn't been cared for by a woman growing up, though it seemed she'd wanted it that way by choice, having killed her mother at birth. And after her father's disappearance she'd become her grandfather's ward, often left with whichever cousin was willing to put up with her.

Not until her transition in name and identity, from Helen Brown to Mrs. Albert Lovett, did she have some meager taste of female guidance, in the form of her mother-in-law Margaret Lovett, the Mrs. Lovett before her. Margaret had been a harsh, cantankerous woman who could always argue her way into getting what she wanted, and though Nellie had wanted to murder the woman in her sleep, she also saw her as a kind of mentor for making her way in the world. Still, Nellie could partly blame her for the mess she was in now; after all, it was Margaret who had taught her how to make the meat pies.

It was all mud and gloom outside of the small shelter, settled on the limbo of the mouth of an alley and a ditch crowded with thorny bramble. With a fair amount of difficulty Nellie heaved herself out of the confines, past makeshift planks that served as a door covering, and sat staring at the wooden structure for a long while. She was sure she recognized it, that she knew the fractured wood that reached out of the earth and filth piled around its frame, like the dwelling of a muskrat. Toby sat at its threshold, watching the smog and haze stewing above the factories, perhaps at the coin of weak light, the sun burning out. Even that was gone a moment later, and Toby looked as grim as though it would never return again. Maybe it wouldn't.

Nellie had opened her mouth to speak to the boy when the piles of rags on the edge of the bramble suddenly stirred and took on human form, causing her to gasp and jerk back into Toby. He chuckled at her and grabbed her shoulders in reassurance.

"They're only some of the beggars, mum; they're alright, they let me stay here."

"Let you?" Nellie wondered. How could they have authority over an area they didn't own? As she spoke, one of the bundles rose and slid away, down the alley, like a twisted mass that had blown off of the bramble. The remaining homely figures made no acknowledgement that their numbers had reduced.

"They said this is my wagon and let me have it," Toby told her. Nellie drew in a sharp breath and looked up at the planks. The wagon! That was it, the contraption Toby had carted the Pirelli fellow around in. Fate hadn't been kind to it once it was abandoned, by the looks of it, having been stripped of any parts that had made it mobile, and there only seemed to be half of it left before her. Of course, its owner's fate hadn't been much more pleasant, she'd seen to that.

Toby leaned Nellie back against himself, until her head was supported on his shoulder. "How can I care for you, mum?" he asked.

"You can start by not coddling me so." She began to sit up, but only managed to lift her head and chest while the rest of her remained decidedly stationary. Nellie had little choice but to fall back on Toby's support again, suddenly short of breath. He almost seemed satisfied, like he'd been testing her.

"Rest, mum, you're pale, and I'm sure you need to eat."

Nellie breathed heavily for a moment, stewing in her defeat. But when Toby rose, gently helping her sit against the shelter, and looked like he meant to follow through on his threat of feeding her, she felt a sudden panic.

"Toby? Um, Toby, dear, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to find something to eat, mum."

"No, no, please, don't find something." Nellie pat her breasts down frantically, relieved to find she still had her purse. She had Toby help her back into the wagon before revealing her stash. "Here, Toby, just because we're living like beggars doesn't mean we have to eat like them." She slipped him a few pennies. "Just buy something dry, bread or such, I don't think I could stomach much else."

As Toby left, Nellie was very aware of her eyes closing themselves, like curtains slowly pulled shut, and she remembered the vast black space as her body shut down but her mind didn't know what to do with itself yet. But apparently she didn't remember waking up, because when she came to herself she was being fed by Toby. She'd already eaten a few bites without having realized it.

"This better be bread," she told him, chuckling through her delirium, "because I can barely tell." Toby nodded, his face serious. He smoothed disarrayed hair out of her eyes.

"Any better, mum? Do you need to sleep some more?"

She couldn't say if she needed to, but she wanted to, that much she knew. If she'd lost control of everything, at least she could still will herself to ignore it all, to not acknowledge that she'd lost. She could will herself to be unwilling.

With a soft moan Nellie leaned into Toby, the rise of her stomach bumping against his knee, and he held her in his lap for a long while, having undying patience just for her.


	7. My Love, My Lost

_Chapter 7: My Love, My Lost_

Now and then she remembered being fed, or given a drink, or opening her eyes to darkness and seeing Toby curled up next to her.

But the rest was black, her dreams and nightmares.

"Is this it? What is this place?"

Nellie thought she heard Mara's voice (why was that girl still plaguing her mind?), but when she came out of her haze she was still in the wagon, so it couldn't be. She turned over and allowed herself to drift again.

"She's here." Toby's voice now. "But she's always asleep, I can't get her to do much else. Not since I brought her here."

"Hm. I'll see to that."

Nellie was suddenly slapped in the face.

"Wake up, mum! I see you stirring in here."

She tried to shoo the hands away, but Mara grabbed her and turned her onto her back. A few more slaps, leaving her cheeks with a stinging numbness. "Is this where you've been all this time? Do you know how long I've been trying to find you?"

Nellie didn't respond, staring at the blurry form above her.

"Mr. Todd made us leave the shop, and we couldn't find you…" said Mara. "And after I heard him yelling at you, I thought he might have…"

Hearing her speak of Sweeney made Nellie's eyes finally open entirely. It was real, wasn't it? Him and what they'd done, who'd they done it to, it wasn't just a horrid mashed-together premise spewn from her subconscious. Her senses finally came into being, like they'd been holding their breath.

"I had to leave," said Nellie, her voice so weak she barely heard it herself. "Mr. Todd and I, we're…" How could she explain what they were? It seemed foolish to try. "He has his Johanna now, he cares little for me."

"And so you're here, because Mr. Todd rejected you?" Mara had opened the coat fronts over Nellie's stomach to expose her dress. "I think you've grown."

Nellie lifted her head, unable to see over her girth, and sighed heavily.

"Whatever your problems with Mr. Todd you can't stay here and have the baby on the streets." Mara seemed to be speaking more to the womb as she ran her hand over it affectionately. "Wallowing in your despair won't do any good."

"I'm not wallowing!" Nellie said with a sudden harshness, like she was in pain, causing Mara to jerk away from her.

"Whatever you want to call it, then," the girl said in agitation. "I just came to help the baby, not you."

Clunks and shifts came in repetition from outside; Toby was digging a hole with one of the ragged beings, though for what purpose no one could say. Mara sat and rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. "Mum, the more set you become in your ways, the worse your ways get."

"Hm," Nellie grunted.

"You've been lying to me all along."

She thought Mara meant in general and didn't react, but the girl had specific grievances on her mind.

"Mrs. Smith told me you knew my mother, that you were with her when I was born. Why did you tell me you found me abandoned?"

"I told you you were abandoned, nothing more," said Nellie. "Your mother couldn't care for you, and Mrs. Smith practically threw you at me. What good was telling you?" Mara turned away from her, but Nellie couldn't tell if it was in anger or despair. "None of it matters, child, didn't I care for you when no one else would?"

The girl still didn't respond as she began crawling back out of the wagon.

"But why-" Mara stopped at the threshold a beat longer than she'd meant to. "Why did it happen above the shop?"

Nellie paused as she watched her girl in near disbelief. She hadn't figured it out? "Because, it's where… they lived."

Mara had an odd stiff manner about her, and Nellie wondered if she was trying to fool herself. The girl was calm as she turned, but hysteria was threatening her eyes.

"Why should I trust you now, mother? All I've ever known from you are lies."

"What are you going on about?"

"Mr. Todd…" Mara's throat hitched. "He wants a family for Johanna. He wants me as his wife, and I accepted-"

"You silly, stupid girl!" Nellie forced herself to sit up, ignoring the pain in her spine. "And you came looking for me, to disprove he's your father? Well, I can't do that, Mara, because it's true." Nellie now wished the girl had discovered the truth earlier, had hated her for it, and had never forgiven her, for this was worse.

"You're lying!" Mara shot back.

"You don't want this, I know you don't." Had Sweeney threatened the girl into this hysteria, or did she truly lust for him?

"You can't stop me," said Mara, maybe as a question.

"No, I can't, and I'm glad. You're a silly, stupid, wicked, vile girl." Nellie hissed out insulting adjectives as she tried to move forward, but her joints and muscles were too stiff from her time spent comatose, and the baby kept her nearly rooted to the spot. Mara watched her with a pained look on her face.

"I'm not going to tell Mr. Todd where you are."

"Good," said Nellie.

"I'll leave you now."

"Right."

"I won't look for you again."

"Fine, I won't wait."

Mara left the wagon and marched away from the ditch, skirts swinging purposely, down the alley and out of sight. Toby watched her with interest, meant to step back but fell into his half-foot hole, and then hurried up to Nellie's side. "You're not going to go with her, mum?"

"No, I'm not wanted."

Toby frowned as he hooked Nellie's coats back up. "Why don't you come out for a bit?"

"I don't think I can." Nellie tried to lie back down but Toby caught her.

"No no, mum, come on." He sat her up, straighter than she'd managed before, and her back muscles pulled with a shock of pain.

"Good God, Toby!" But she couldn't free herself from him, so she grabbed him back to keep either of them from moving.

"Mum, let off!"

Nellie ignored him and looked out, where the feature-less form of the beggar continued to dig. She still wasn't sure that it had arms or eyes with which to work with. "What's that for, Toby?"

"What?" He checked her gaze and tried to mimic its direction.

"Is that for me?" said Nellie through her exhale.

"What? No, what're you talking about?"

"Then who is it for? Why are you digging it?"  
"I don't know, I was only helping, stop being foolish."

But Nellie was transfixed by the indentation of earth, and Toby let her lie back down when he'd pulled her to the wagon's edge. He moved the planks away from the opening and let her watch the progress, mostly so he could keep an eye on her as he cooked their bits of supper, in case she put herself in one of her states again. The beggars didn't seem to mind as Toby made a small fire and took out the bits of cheese and bread; they didn't even glance at him, let alone try to rob their share.

Every time Nellie sighed she saw the movement of Toby turning his head, to her and back, in the corner of her sight.

"Mum," he finally spoke, poking the meal with a stick. "I wish I knew why you were like this. If you're upset, why don't you complain or do something about it?"

Nellie sighed and shifted, folding her arms under her head.

"It's just unnatural, is all," said Toby. "Are you ill, or is it some sickness of the head? Maybe we can find a doctor to help you."

Nellie wanted to deny his accusations, but she needed to give him some sort of answer, or else he'd never let her be. She searched her mind a long moment for a truth she could manipulate.

"Toby…" she said, and the boy turned to her. "Toby, I've had many babes in my time, six or seven… but none ever survived."

"What about Mara?"

"She's not from my womb, Toby." She didn't look up at his expression to see if he was surprised. "I'm sure this one won't survive, either."

"Mum, don't say that." He took the cooking tin away from the fire as quick as he could, mostly because it burned his fingers, and knelt by Nellie. "Isn't there anyway to save it?"

"No." She put on her most melancholy airs. "I don't know how I can stand to lose one more, Toby, how am I supposed to live?" Her expressions of grief caused true sadness on the boy's face, and for a brief moment Nellie thought she might have over done it.

"Then I'll let you sleep, mum," he told her as he rubbed her shoulder. "If that's what you want to do. If that's what you need to."

She did, but not for long this time.

For a day or more after, she kept her watch on the hole; the dirt piling up while it was being dug, and waiting for someone to continue when it wasn't. She was convinced it was her grave now, out of practicality, she assured herself, because it might as well be hers. Nellie wasn't sure how long it had been since she left her shop, but the time for the child to come was near, she could feel it with a mother's knowing. When Toby left for the market she would lie by the hole, where the dirt would kick up in her face, and pretend she was already in it. And since the beggars never acknowledged her existence, she could more completely convince herself she was a corpse waiting for burial. But Nellie didn't play her games because she wanted to be dead; she was enticed by the idea because she feared it. No doubt the beggars would let her die if her fears became reality.

And she still wondered if the Bow street Runners had traced the Judge's disappearance to Sweeney's shop, if the truth had been discovered, if her customers knew what she'd served them, if they'd burned her shop in retribution, if she was being searched for, Sweeney captured and speaking against her at this moment, the gallows being strung, and the noose wrapped for a woman's neck.

"A more disturbed, ridiculous woman I've never seen, Mrs. Lovett. You actually make it look like you want to be sprawled out here in the filth, to make civilized people jealous."

Nellie wiped dirt off of her face and eyelashes and looked up at the woman standing over her. Her dress was old and tattered, and Nellie thought she knew the pinched, deep-lined face under the shawl. The woman knelt by Lovett and uncovered her head to reveal a knot of pale hair, strands flowing over her face like tendrils searching for support to climb.

"Is it true, then? The Judge, is he dead?"

Nellie could only nod, watching the woman carefully, and her slightly twisted grin. She knew that genteel voice, that touch of dementia, that hair. Was this Lucy come to her senses, or perhaps she had only feigned madness all these years? And there Nellie was, filled with a child by Lucy's husband and no way to hide it, as though the deed were written out all over her body, in the very corneas of her eyes.

"And you know for sure," said the woman. "Don't you? You and that Mr. Todd; I thought so. But it'll never make up for what you did to us."

"Well, I hadn't meant for it to," said Nellie. "If you've come to take your revenge, don't bother. This child is going to do me in painfully as it tears its way out; you couldn't do much worse." She sat herself up so she wouldn't feel so prone with the woman looking down at her. They were awfully close, she realized, nearly brushing shoulders.

"And that'll be soon, won't it? But, no, I don't want to do you any harm. It does seem insane, doesn't it, that I've come to talk to you civilly, with no ill will, you understand."

"No?" said Nellie, giving the woman a sideways glance as she tried to avoid actually looking at her features. But then, with a sudden flash of thought, she realized what should have been obvious: that this was Lillian. Yes, that look-alike cousin, it had to be, of course, that was sensible.

"I've never been married, Mrs. Lovett," said the woman who was certainly Lillian. "And in my youth I thought I was a terrible failure as a woman, as everyone told me. But when I lived with the Judge I found out about the desperation of being trapped by a man, that I would have done anything to escape, if I only had the nerve. I'm even willing to believe you were victimized by the Judge."

Nellie watched her a moment, surprised by such an idea.

"You're taking pity on me?" Lovett asked, her voice choking on her disgust. She looked up and around the sky, wide-eyed, searching for some sort of sense.

"Maybe not sincerely, but in some odd way I can." Lillian leaned forward, hugging the shawl tighter around her, and looked up at Nellie over her shoulder. "The investigators know about Mr. Todd murdering his customers, about the chair, and the remains in your cellar. But they could only convict him for the murders of specific people, and there was no evidence of who the remains belonged to."

"So they let him go," Nellie whispered, but that she knew already. She then said aloud, "But do you know about the girls? What he's done with them?"

"Well, he's…" Lillian sat back up, looked behind and before them, and then took a gentle hold of Nellie's arm. "Why don't you speak against him, Mrs. Lovett? The girls wouldn't, they stayed on his side, somehow manipulated by him, I'm sure. You're the only evidence left. You're not in his grasp anymore, and I know you want to fight against him, why don't you?"

"You think you know so much?" Nellie snapped. "I'm not afraid of Mr. Todd."

"Oh? Then why haven't you spoken against him?"

"I haven't been well enough," said Nellie, matter-of-factly. "I couldn't take the pressure or the excitement. As I told you, this child is ready to kill me at any moment, and you still haven't told me what you know about the girls."

"He's living with them both, in an Inn outside of the city," Lillian said. "Mrs. Lovett, I'm desperate to get my Johanna back, before he takes her away for good and I never find them again. Don't you want your girl back, too?"

Nellie looked away, down the alley before them, not really seeing what her gaze fell on. Did she want Mara back? She was so strewn in her own wrongs and sorrows that she hadn't considered that the girl might need saving. That she would want to save her.

"Perhaps I do…"

"What kind of answer is that exactly?" Lillian gasped. "Are you her mother or not? Shall I have to stay and bother you until you help me, or will I really have to turn you in?"

Nellie turned back to her with a half-grin. "Oh, you won't do that. Mr. Todd will flee as soon as he hears I've been caught."

"Jesus," Lillian huffed and covered her head with the shawl once more, as though in shame. "You have more wits about you then I first thought."

"Well, I haven't been living a soft, pampered life in the mansion of a high-ranking official, Miss Oakley."

"I was his servant, confined against my will!" Lillian gasped, but Nellie only scoffed at her.

"And I had to provide for myself and keep from starving while so many on my street did. We all knew desperation, and I learned to do what I had to to survive- as all of us common folk did." Nellie grabbed hold of Lillian's shawl, pulling her closer so they bumped foreheads. "I even helped a murderer willingly! The courts may find me vile, but anyone else would have done the same given the chance."

Lillian hissed, and a whimper escaped her throat as she pulled away. "At this point I don't care if what you did was right or wrong, I just want my Johanna back! I've been keeping close watch on them, and Mr. Todd's only staying around to find you, to make sure you don't turn him in. Why don't we go save our girls? Mr. Todd won't suspect if you came back to him, will he? Then you can get the girls to escape with us."

"Just that simple?" said Nellie, looking down at her dress as she wiped the dirt off.

"Isn't it all we can do? Please, Mrs. Lovett, I'm begging you, if you have any decency left in you at all."

Lillian took in a deep breath and then resigned to silence, looking tired and truly drained of the last of her hope. But Nellie smiled a wicked smile that went up through her eyes, and she caressed Lillian's chin, bringing their faces dangerously close.

"I might," said Nellie, her lips brushing skin.  
"Is that a yes, then?" Lillian closed her eyes, as though blocking out the moment, but didn't pull away. Lovett laughed at her and flicked the woman's nose, amused by how far she was willing to go to convince her.

"If you can get me up and going, then I might as well."


	8. The Day Before

_Chapter 8: The Day Before_

Getting Nellie up and going was more difficult in truth than it was in theory of course, but they managed somehow. With a hold of Nellie's arm so she wouldn't flee or lose her footing, Lillian led them down streets and through St. Dunstan's marketplace, while Nellie kept her face under Lillian's shawl so as not to be recognized. But she soon tired, and they sat at a wall by a large expanse of cobblestone road, out of the way of merchant carts and foot traffic.

Lillian didn't try to talk or comfort, she only waited dutifully, like a horseman letting his beast drink. Over her own ragged breaths Nellie could barely hear her thoughts, but she became aware of the apprehension that was slowly pulsing through her. She wasn't just going home to the pie shop and the poor, pathetic (if not dreadfully violent) mass of vengeance and improprieties that was her Mr. Todd. This was different, and she wasn't prepared. For, post-vengeance, what was he now? Had he descended further into madness for lack of purpose, or was he truly fulfilled and reviving his life as Mara had suggested? It was terrifying to think that he might have had another transformation, like his return from Australia, because it didn't seem possible that any kind of change could be for the better

The Redgrave Inn was up a rocky path that disappeared in a field of weeds and never quite showed up again. Nellie stopped when they reached the porch and looked up at the faded lettering, which really only read 'R…ve I'.

"Come on, come on," Lillian hissed at her and took Nellie's hand to lead her through the door. It screeched furiously through out its open and close swings, and several cats shot in and out before the exit disappeared. The Inn's deserted first floor was furnished with several tables, chairs, and benches, scattered haphazardly and without suggestion that any one was meant to function with another. Many of the chairs were even toppled and growing cob-webbings to the floor.

Lillian had stopped in the middle of the disarray, glancing about hesitantly.

"He shouldn't see me with you." Her voice was still a whisper. "He usually returns not long from this time. Why don't you wait out here for him?"

"And tell him what?"

"That's for you to decide; you're the one with the 'wit.'"

Nellie huffed impatiently and jerked her hand out of Lillian's hold.

"So I'm just expected to convincingly show up out of thin air?"

"I have a room at the end of the corridor upstairs, the broom closet on the left," Lillian said as a conclusion. She then hiked up her skirts and began climbing a narrow stairway that had escaped Nellie's attention until now. Its opening was little more than a missing panel in the wall, and looked like it could easily be hidden by a well-placed bookcase. No more than a few steps up Lillian was out of sight.

Through her uncertainty Nellie was feeling the hints of longing for her pie shop that the setting gave her, that made her adrenaline gasp and hesitate with the expectation of sweeping and serving and rushing in and out of her kitchen, listening for the bell on her door. The smell here, of yeast and crust and char, was old, merely clinging to the surroundings; if the kitchen once served baked meals to its patrons it hadn't for some time. The odor of grease and ale, however, was heavy.

Nellie sat facing the entrance on the nearest bench, sighing as it creaked under her weight, and tapped her foot impatiently. She had been trying to think of better ways to follow their deranged plan when she paused her tapping to listen as voices and footsteps came from a back door beyond the kitchen. They had a routine going about, clanking dishes on table tops, and pragmatism told Nellie it must be the Inn keepers; that or very at-home crooks.

"Well, where do you suppose she came from, I wonder?" A woman's high, nasal voice came from the kitchen behind Nellie, speaking as though she couldn't be completely overheard. A man's low rumble was more discreet, and then the whine continued; "But look at her dress! That ain't no beggar's dress, it isn't. Maybe she's lost or been kicked out by her husband."

Nellie hadn't moved at first, only shifted her eyes in an effort to look out the back of her head, but now she turned in time to see a flash of fabric flee the slight opening of the door. She could feel the apprehension from the kitchen, and after a beat the woman finally pushed through the door like she wasn't expecting to greet anyone. She was younger than Nellie, early thirties perhaps, with large deer like eyes and dark hair that sharply contrasted her powder pale skin.

"Hello, dearie, where did you come from?" she asked, giving Nellie a toothy smile. When she didn't answer the woman approached her, hesitating slightly when she saw how pregnant Nellie was. "Well, you poor thing, what have you been dragged through?"

"A good deal of filth, by the looks of it." Nellie tried to brush some of it off her knees, but it was stained to the cloth. The woman sat next to her, her legs splayed un-modestly, as though she had nothing better to do, and she probably didn't. Her hair was barely held together in a knot, and coming a little more undone with every movement.

"Do you need some help, dearie? I'm afraid we can't afford much charity, but…"

"I'm just waiting for someone," said Nellie.

"There ain't much folks to wait for around here, I'm afraid. Except for that tall bloke with hair like he fought a hurricane." The woman slid her feet under her with a jerk. "He ain't your husband, is he?"

Nellie looked at her hands. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, it's just that he has those two girls with him, and I was hoping to myself that they had a mother some where."

"Hm." Nellie gave no other answer, scratching absently at her dress fabric.

"I have some little ones myself; an older girl, too, but she's off and married already." She turned behind them, where a large man with poorly cropped hair was standing behind the counter. Nellie hadn't even heard him come out. "George, are the kids still out by the Morrisons' yard?"

George grunted some kind of answer.

"They'll come back when they're hungry," the woman said affectionately. "Oh, this is my husband, George Redgrave; my second husband, really. My first husband's name was George, too…" Her current George grumbled a response. "Right, I was just about to. I'm Louise." She grabbed Nellie's hand to shake it, but only got a dead fish. "If our Mr. Whoever is the one you're waiting for, he usually comes back around this time for supper."

"You don't happen to know where he goes off to, do you?" Nellie asked.

"Can't say I do, dearie. As long as he pays his fees we don't pry."

If only God could hear them now. The couples' pointed lack of knowledge about their guest, even his name, was as purposeful as she'd thought; they knew perfectly well who he was and what he'd done, but as long as he paid them it didn't matter. Could Nellie hardly be called the villain of this penny dreadful now?

Louise chattered on a while longer, but Nellie found she had lost interest in mindless conversations with strangers, and it gave her an empty feeling, like organs had been physically taken out of her. But Lovett busied herself with the ale she was offered, to calm her nerves, and as long as her mouth was on the mug's lip she wasn't expected to respond. By the time a tall figure came through the entry door Nellie was being lulled by the buzz in her mind, and nearly missed him as he took long, quick strides towards the staircase.

"Mr. Todd!" her mouth cried out even before her mind recognized him, and he paused, turning stiffly. Nellie leaned forward, almost too far, to push herself to her feet, but as soon as she'd approached him he snatched a grip on her wrist. Nellie gasped and stared openly at his face, trying desperately to read the blank stone features. Sweeney looked over her at the Innkeepers until satisfied they were making themselves busy, then pulled Nellie close to lead her up the stairs.

"Mr. Todd, can't you be gentle? I haven't much balance." But Sweeney ignored her complaints, pulling Nellie around the top stairs banister and shoving her into his room.

"How did you find us?" he snapped out, stopping just inside the closed door. "What did you come for?"

"What would I come for, Mr. Todd?" Nellie turned, casually looking about the small, dark room. As Sweeney spoke she approached the two beds crammed head to head in a corner, rolling onto the nearest one with awkward difficulty.

"You plague me, woman. You hide yourself for months and then show up when I'm convinced you're dead? Do you expect me to believe you won't turn me in?"

"What, and get myself arrested, too? I'm not here for any of that." Nellie leaned back against the wall, resting her hands on her stomach. "The baby's nearly here, Mr. Todd. I only need somewhere to stay until then."

Mention of the baby made Sweeney finally look at her abdomen, which he'd tried to avoid up until then, and he then took an agitated turn about the room, not able to escape his own muddled feelings.

"We're in a delicate situation, Mrs. Lovett. I can't afford to wait around much longer."

"Oh, come now. You've waited around this long, what's another week or so?"

"Another week or so!" Sweeney snapped, and though he didn't move Nellie still jumped. "They could find evidence enough to arrest us at any moment! Because of you we couldn't flee like I'd planned to, and I refuse to let you delay us again."

"Mr. Todd…" Nellie whined, pouting her lips as pathetically as she could muster. "I made it here, but my body won't let me go much farther. You want to carry me the whole way?"

"I doubt that'd be possible."

"Then let me rest, won't you? Good heavens!" Nellie chuckled, letting the ale take over as her adrenaline was calming, and she leaned over slowly until she was lying on her side. "I'll be out of your way soon enough, and you'll have your child. If you want her to live you'll have to let her come on her own, which means not stressing me into an early labor."

Sweeney stopped and stared, something turning behind his blank eyes. Concern, perhaps.

"Can that happen?"

"Of course it can, ask any mother." She wasn't quite aware of the smile on her face, which made her seem strangely content with the situation. Sweeny sat down on the opposite bed and hunched over, until his forehead was nearly on his knees, and didn't move again. Nellie watched him, wondering if he was so agitated that his brain just went on time out. His pointed immobility might have gone on forever, but footsteps were soon heard on the stairs, and Sweeney looked up, knowing whom to expect.

"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Todd, I'll get started on – Oh!" Mara froze just inside the door, the basket on her arm swinging back into Johanna who was trailing right behind. "Oh God, mum! How did…?" She stared at Nellie, not in surprise but shocked fear.

Johanna looked over Mara's shoulder. "Mrs. Lovett! Good to see you again."

"Shut the door," said Sweeney, finally standing to direct them, and the two girls quickly obeyed before settling themselves on the floor, awaiting his next wishes. Nellie sat up to watch them, worried that their obedience came from actual respect for their twisted father figure, rather than a pure instinct for survival. But while Johanna was staring intently at her knees –pretty Johanna, still a golden beauty despite her humble dress and matted hair- Mara was looking straight up at Sweeney, with Lucy's wide eyes that must have made the man long for her at every glance. Oh, how these women made him suffer – each one a broken piece of his past and his desires, but never able to fit together and make him whole again.

"We're going to stay a short while longer," Sweeney told them, "until Mrs. Lovett has had her child." Mara shot a quick glance at Nellie, as though to ask, 'It's coming soon?' but betrayed no concern to Sweeney.

"You still want the child?" Mara asked coolly. Sweeney gave a harsh sigh.

"She can't travel until it's out of her, so we have no choice but to wait."

And what a fib it was; how could they know what he was planning to do to her after the birth?

"Shall I start supper now?" said Mara, but gave him a hard look, a woman's look, a you will never truly own me look. Sweeney grunted and turned away, as though he recognized the look, too, and was disgusted that it should be on a face that was otherwise so like his Lucy's. Ever faithful Lucy.

Sweeney soon left the room with a claustrophobic's haste, as Mara gathered some pots and utensils piled by the lone window.

"Mara…" Nellie said softly, with a new fondness she hadn't expected. Or perhaps it was just the ale. "My little Mara, all grown up and playing the role of wife."

"I'm not his wife," Mara muttered.

"Soon?" said Nellie, with a chuckle that fueled itself. Mara threw the cooking ware into the largest pot, with a purposeful crash that made Johanna squeak in surprise.

"You're horrid, mother," Mara hissed, standing to stare at Nellie. Her actions seemed like a challenge, but they soon became an observation, if they weren't initially. "Are you drunk?"

"Only a bit. It seems I can't quite hold my ale like I used to."

"You shouldn't be holding it at all. If you get back in that habit now, you'll get yourself too drunk to walk and end up hurting the baby."

"And just who's the mother here? You think it's any use lecturing me?" Nellie raised her eyebrows emphatically, but couldn't help giggling at her own serious tone of voice.

Mara's eyes flickered between the bed and Nellie on it, and then she looked from left to right, shifting her weight to the other hip.

"Take these to the kitchen." She dumped the pot and basket into Johanna's arms, who buckled under the weight.

"Are you going to come down soon?" Johanna's voice seemed higher than before, with a slight rasp. "You'll come and help me, right?"

"Of course, I'll be down in a minute," said Mara, having a strange motherly manner towards the girl who was more than a year older than her. Johanna was satisfied, and smiled at Nellie before nudging the door open with her foot and struggling out to the stairs.

"Mum, come downstairs and wait for dinner." Mara grabbed Nellie's arm and pulled it, causing her mother's torso to jerk forward and back.

"But I just got up here."

"Just for a bit. I'm sure Mr. Todd's down there brooding and trying to be left alone, and you can go bother him by being romantic and such."

"You're being blunt," Nellie muttered, but allowed Mara to hold around her back to push her to her feet.

Sweeney was just as Mara said he would be, sitting in a far corner with his elbows on the table and forehead in his hands. There were children's voices chattering from somewhere, either the kitchen or outback, and Louise's voice was cutting above the noise, drowning out whomever she happened to be speaking to. Mara led Nellie to Sweeney's table and was careful in helping her sit next to him.

"Now you two wait here," Mara said, knocking on the table twice, "and I'll come out with supper in a while." Sweeney watched her leave for the kitchen, the swaying of her hips, but Nellie's eyes stayed on him.

"Do you love her, Mr. Todd?" she asked when Mara was out of earshot.

Sweeney's gazed shifted down to her.

"What?"

"I'm no fool; I see the way you look at her."

"I imagine you'd be furious if that were the case."

"No." Nellie leaned into Sweeney's shoulder. "I'm used to men whose lust wanders. I was married to one once."

"You could have been married to any man," said Sweeney, resting his chin on the top of her head as he placed a hand on her stomach. "I'd take care of Mara, protect her, and never let anyone take her away."

"I'm sure you would."

"I thought it's what she wanted, too, but now she's reluctant." He turned his head towards the kitchen door, his thumb rubbing the fabric over Nellie's stomach.

"Hey!" Nellie chuckled as she grabbed Sweeney's thumb. "Love, that tickles."

"Hm."

"Oh, well, look at you two!" Louise came out of the kitchen, side-stepping the cats and small boy who rushed out ahead of her. "Jimmy! Jimmy, don't pull out its whiskers! Sorry, don't mind the chaos, dearies." She made it to their table and set a mug down in front of Sweeney. "Here you are, sir. Sorry, missy, none for you, your girl threatened to burn the place down if I did."

"Prudish _and_ violent," Nellie mumbled.

"I just knew you two were together, I did. I can tell these things." Louise gave them a smile and wiped off the table, not noticing their lack of response. "It's nice to have another family around; one without small children, of course. But that won't be for long, will it? I'm okay with having babies around of course, and if you ever need any help just ask, I know the process well myself."

"At the moment I just need help waiting for the birth," Nellie sighed, hoping the discomfort she was beginning to feel was just indigestion.

"Don't worry, dearie, it'll come soon enough." Louise gave Nellie's shoulder a sympathetic pat and began prattling on again, but Nellie was too focused on the pains in her hips and sides to listen. She shifted in her seat and the pain faded, hopefully only caused by false contractions.  
"What's wrong?" Sweeney asked her, not paying attention to Louise either.

"Nothing," said Nellie, but she could feel her face flushing. "I'm just not feeling well."

"Is it the child?"

"No, no." Nellie stood up, not letting Sweeney help her. She was very conscious that he and Louise were staring at her. "I'm going to go back upstairs."

"I'll bring your supper up when it's ready," Louise offered, but didn't get a response from Nellie as she left.


	9. A Place in Hell

_Chapter 9: A Place in Hell_

"First Witch: When shall we three meet again

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Second Witch: When the hurlyburly's done,

When the battle's lost and won."

-William Shakespeare, _The Tragedy of Macbeth_

(1)

Nellie sat carefully on the bed she now considered her own, fearful that any wrong movement could induce the labor. She just now realized how much she was shaking and how panicked her breaths were. It'd hit home all at once that this was it, the uncontrollable inevitability. She'd always wondered what it'd be like to die in some freak accident, like when a building falls on you, and it's all a sudden awful intensity and noise and pure terror and pain, and then nothing. Now Nellie felt like she was stuck in the ground as the building loomed over her, knowing it would fall in a minute, or an hour, or days from now, and all everyone else around her could do was watch.

She suddenly felt very hot, her face burning, but when she tried to move away a blanket that was partly stuck under the mattress, something else shot out with it and clattered on the floorboards. When Nellie leaned over to see, she found a string of white pearls lying in a crooked oval, each shining in the flickering candlelight. It made her momentarily forget her panic, and she slowly reached down to pick it up, fingering around each smooth orb. Nellie remembered these pearls, the ones that had belonged to that Thornhill lad, which Mara had brought back with her after his 'accident.' But what were they doing under the mattress of all places?

Nellie suddenly gasped as her shoulders jerked. These could be traced to Thornhill, who had never been found after his disappearance. Sure, Sweeney himself hadn't done him in, but it was still evidence for the murder of someone with a name, someone reported missing around the time of Sweeney's arrival. Nellie quickly shoved the pearls back under the mattress, lying down over it for extra assurance. She was fearful all over again, but something else was telling her, No, no… What did it matter if she was caught? She shouldn't fear the necklace, it was power over Sweeney, it was his demise even after Nellie wasn't around to testify, her last laugh. If only she could give it to Lillian, or convince the girls to betray him…

Sweeney was suddenly over her, sitting on the bed by her knees, and Nellie startled, barely aware of having blacked-out.

"Oh, look, there she is." Louise came to her and knelt by the bed. "You holding on there, dearie?"

"Mmm…" Nellie moaned, and her eyes skipped over Louise's to meet Sweeney's. There was a slight wrinkle of worry on his forehead.

"Are you feeling any pain?" Louise asked, wiping the sweat off Nellie's face with a towel.

"No."

"Well, your water hasn't broken yet, but you should probably stay in bed until it's time. I can tell it's been hard for you; I just wish I knew a mid-wife near here."

"It's alright." Nellie cleared her throat and continued watching Sweeney.

"If you say so, dearie, but you sure gave us a fright when you wouldn't wake up."

Louise left the room when she decided she wasn't needed anymore, and Nellie turned her head to check the rest of the room, realizing how silent it was.

"The girls are downstairs," Sweeney supplied. "I didn't want them crowding you."

"In case I went into labor, right?" Nellie smirked at him. "Oh, I think about it every day Mr. Todd, how you're going to kill me soon. Are you still sure you can't love me just a bit, just on the side, a little something different when you get bored?"

"Are you really that desperate?"

"Doesn't matter now." Nellie sighed airily. "And just what are you going to do with these girls once they're yours alone?"

"Try to be a family, I suppose."

"How will you support them?"

"I'll find some sort of job, somewhere."

"Gravedigger, perhaps?" Nellie thought it was a clever idea, but Sweeney took no notice. He placed both hands around her stomach for a while, rubbing it gently in hopes of catching the child's movement, but there was none.

"Are you certain it's still alive in there?"

"Of course I'm certain!" Nellie snapped, her own defensiveness startling her. "Don't ask such stupid questions." Sweeney was still watching her as she turned her head away, and she hoped her face wasn't as white as it felt.

She dreamed… She knew she was dreaming, and it all seemed so silly to be a prisoner in her own mind but still so close to consciousness. She was at the sea on a gray day, but with pleasant bursts of wind that startled her hair. She waded into the tide, the water soaking into her skirts and weighing her down, and she stumbled over them, falling to her knees, the bits of sand scraping her bare legs as they streamed under her. The ocean water rushed at her with a shock of cold and came up to chest level, splashing against her and spraying up in her face. She made her dream-self laugh at the distorted irony, that her mind was attempting to give her one last gift after all the wrongs it'd caused her, as though this made up for its lack of conscience and humanity, civility, which deep down she longed for but couldn't bring to the light. She cursed at the vision, words incoherent but reprimanding in tone, and the very ocean and still grayness seemed to quiver with guilt. Another wave came and broke over her head – she could smell the salt burning her nose as vividly as she had smelled the rot of corpses in so many nightmares – and the wave quickly rushed back from behind her. She sunk her hands into the sand and pushed back to keep the suction from over-taking her, engulfing her into the mouth of the sea that loomed before her, swallowing her up for eternity…

Nellie's transition form sleep to waking was as smooth as the switch of a light, and she remembered her dreams as clearly as though she had never left them. When she realized her consciousness she gasped and sat up, but luckily her sea-filled vision hadn't been a symbolic message of her water having broken. Still, she knew that if not now it would happen by the end of the day. The last grain of the hourglass had finally fallen.

It took her a moment to realize that it was mid-morning and that she was alone in the room, save for the pushed back blankets on the floor and bed – ghostly remains that made Nellie think of all the empty beds she had helped create, all of the widows and fatherless children. Her own father had fallen out of her life just as suddenly and mysteriously, so maybe it was justified vengeance after all.

If it worked for Sweeney…

Lest she become sentimental, if that was possible at all, Nellie meant to leave the room, she wanted to be anywhere but here, but she had a sudden surge of – justice? Conscience? Vengeance? She wasn't sure. Nellie just knew she was reaching under the mattress for the pearls, sneaking out of the room and down the hall, her mind searching frantically for the directions to Lillian's room. At the end on the left, did she say? Not that knocking on every random door would matter, considering there were no other occupants, and if Sweeney found her engaging in such behavior she could just pretend she'd lost her wits and was inviting her neighbors to tea. He was probably expecting her to cross over into complete insanity since the beginning.

As it was she only had to knock on one door and announce herself, and Lillian let her in. When first given the instructions, Nellie thought the 'broom closet' description was a jab at the quaintness of the room, but she now discovered that that's what it actually was. She was pulled inside, somehow fitting into a small corner opposite the woman, and then was in darkness.

"What's the news?" asked Lillian. "Have you persuaded them?"

"This is an actual broom closet," said Nellie.

Silence.

"Well, yes," said Lillian, "but I only stay here so the keepers don't make me pay. See, I found the key in here, so I just lock the door from the inside, and that silly woman thinks she lost the key and can't get in until she calls on a locksmith, which she can't afford anyway-"

Nellie had been groping for Lillian's hand, accidentally finding her breasts first, of course, and she let the woman feel the pearls she was holding.

"I found evidence," said Nellie. Lillian took a moment to blindly comprehend the item and its implication.

"I don't quite understand."

"But I do," said Nellie. "I'm not sure how to persuade them yet, but if you can take the girls-" Nellie paused, realizing the bump she just felt hit her stomach was coming from inside of her. She'd felt very little movement up until now, and this sent ice through her chest and veins.

"You want me to take them?" asked Lillian. "Are you coming, too?"

"No, if I'm going to incriminate Mr. Todd completely I have to turn myself in, too."

"They'll hang you once the baby comes!"

"I know, but-" Nellie startled from a harder kick inside of her, and she hit her head against something metal hung on the wall. "I won't be around by then, at any rate, so I might as well take Mr. Todd with me."

But it wasn't fair that she couldn't have atleast one successful birth in her lifetime, to see her own flesh and blood come out of her and then devote herself to it entirely. If only the child would live… Wasn't that still possible? Maybe her body was more suited for birth in its maturity, rather than less as she was only suspecting. Maybe it was Albert's bad blood that created children who couldn't survive; hadn't Sweeney achieved two healthy girls already, including one who had escaped a poisoned mother? And maybe, just maybe, she had completely lost her mind to maternal instincts. But feeling the child already energetic inside of her made Nellie realize that she wanted the babe more than she wanted blood-vengeance, the safety of humanity, or martyrdom.

And she wanted to be alive to see it.

Lillian was still in a muddled silence, perhaps stunned that Nellie was capable of such self-sacrifice. This gave Nellie the opportunity to reach up and grab the metal –a key after all- and search for the doorknob. She found it on her first try and shot out, slamming in behind her.

"Mrs. Lovett! What're you -?" Lillian heard the key being shoved into the lock, but she couldn't grab the knob fast enough and the bolt shut with a dull thunk. "Mrs. Lovett, please, I only want to help! I only want Johanna back! Mrs. Lovett!"

Nellie looked down at the key, trying to decide what to do with it, but footsteps at the base of the stairs startled her and the key clattered to the floor. "Shit," she muttered, caught frantically between getting the key and intercepting the intruder. But trying to bend over would take time she didn't have, so she left it and fled to the stairs.

"Mara!" she cried, trying to cloak the sounds of Lillian's cries and door rattling, as she took careful steps to meet the girl. "Mara, Mara, how are you this morning!"

"Mum?" Mara asked, clearly stunned. "What's going on up there?"

"Nothing, nothing, dear!" Nellie took Mara's arm and led her back downstairs.

"Mum, you're supposed to be in bed…"

"Of course dear! But where's Mr. Todd?"

Mara's face was deadset and suspicious, having heard the question too many times for too many unsavory reasons.

"He's out for the morning," she answered, but she clearly wasn't expecting the answer to delight Nellie.

"Good, alright, go get Johanna, we have to leave this instant." She was already heading for the front door, but Mara hadn't moved.

"What? Why, what have you done now?"

"Everything, and I've done it all wrong, but I have one last chance to save us, to escape for good. And we have to go before this baby comes!"

Nellie's last statement was so frantic it convinced Mara immediately, and she shot off to pull Johanna away from her breakfast.

"But only for the baby, you hear me?" Mara admonished as she met Nellie at the door, taking her arm on one side, Johanna's on the other, to keep a steady pace.

Their escape plan was as sporadic as a disaster victim's would be –trying to flee as quickly as possible- but it wasn't enough. They had no money and nowhere to go, so they could neither get very far very fast nor could they hide. The dangerous inevitability was that they would have to obtain some funds if they were going to have any chance to escape at all, which meant returning to the pie shop to find the rest of Nellie's hidden finances.

Nellie was wheezing terribly by the time they made it to Fleet Street, and feeling pains she didn't dare complain about. And the last thing she wanted to do was return to her shop; she could hardly bring herself to look when they finally reached it. Atleast it wasn't burned down, and still stood, but it clearly had taken a beating, and where her door and windows used to be were poorly boarded up.

"Oh," Nellie whined," I bet they've looted the place and torn it apart…"

"Johanna, why don't you stay with her in the alley?" Mara suggested, trying to kick one of the boards ajar. "Mum, where was the money?"

"Under some loose floorboards," said Nellie, in a high, frantic voice. "In our bedchamber, under my bed." Mara gave the board another kick and it cracked halfway off.

"Alright, don't worry, mum. I'll get it and we'll be on a carriage out of London in no time."

By the time Nellie got herself seated in the alley her pains had increased, not just her sore sides, but her stomach and hips, in the steady here-and-gone that could only be contractions.

"Oh Jesus mercy!" she couldn't help herself from crying out, and Johanna nearly screamed.

"Mrs. Lovett!" The girl was twice as pale as usual, her hands shaking visibly. "Are you alright?"

"Good God, no!" Nellie grabbed Johanna's arm. "The baby's coming! It's coming right now!"

Johanna looked ready to scream again, either from panic or Nellie's grip on her arm.

"Right now? It can't come right now!"

"It can and it will!"

"I don't know what to do!" Johanna grabbed Nellie in a hug around the neck, too frightened to let go. Obviously what Nellie needed right now was not a loving embrace, but as she lapsed between contractions, she calmed enough to give Johanna a pat on the head.

"Panicking won't do any good, dear," Nellie sighed, continuing to take slow, deep breaths.

They didn't have to wait long for Mara to return, as the screaming drew her out. She ran around the corner and grabbed Johanna to pull her off of Nellie.

"Mum, mum, is the baby coming!"

"Yes, yes, don't scream at me!" Nellie cried through the pain of another contraction.

"How soon, mum?" Mara took Nellie's arm. "Can you stand? I need to find somewhere to put you."

"It's not soon, it just started…"

Mara tried to pull Nellie to her feet, but her legs wouldn't hold her even enough to stand. "I can't, dear, it's too much…"

Mara seemed to crumple up in despair as she helped Nellie back down. "You can't just give birth here, mum."

"I'll have to, dear, I don't have the strength to go any farther."

Slow hours went by as Nellie lay writhing on the ground, screaming when the pain came and then heaving in fear as she waited for the next. But after the first hour her pains became subdued and infrequent, and Nellie knew she was in for a long labor. Hers had always been long in the past, often for several days. Mara (whose own birth had been quick and simple, nearly moving Nellie to envious tears) sat vigil by her mother, terrified by her ignorance of the birthing process and for Nellie's well being, but she put on a calm face, even managing to keep her hands from shaking. She'd sent Johanna to find a mid-wife, but the girl returned alone, and though she was sure Johanna could have found one if she wasn't so timid, Mara couldn't bring herself to leave Nellie to search.

"Are you doing okay, mum?" Mara asked, worried by her mother's long bout of silence. "You still holding on?" She was sitting with Nellie head resting in her lap, and she watched until her mother's eyes finally opened again, irises fading to deep green in the evening light.

"I am," Nellie sighed, shifting her legs and bending them, knees up and feet on the ground, to relieve her back. "I'm just so tired, I don't think I can take any more pain…"

"You're strong, mum, I know you are. You can get through this." Mara ran her fingers through Nellie's tangled hair, then rubbed her neck, her shoulders, her stomach, trying desperately to sooth her, fearful that Nellie's subdued delirium was caused by a lack of will, that she was giving up. As false as her mother was, as much as she hated her, Mara could still feel that little girl's affection she once had for her mum not so long ago.

In her exhausted haze Nellie thought the sudden scream she heard was her own, but she realized it was Johanna's high-pitched squeal just as Mara's legs were pulled away. The world tilted and her head hit the ground.

Above Nellie he stood, tall, with features blanked by shadow, like a vision of God or Satan, meant to shrivel her soul but leave no impression on her memory once it had vanished.

_Benjamin_, she thought, _first you plagued by dreams, and then you overflowed into my nightmares. Were you born to torture me, or did I make you that way?_

Mara came running in front of Sweeney, but he grabbed her and threw her back, out of sight. Nellie heard her thud against a wall, and then there was no other movement or footsteps.

As Sweeney made to crouch, Nellie had a sudden attack of pain, screaming and clawing at the ground. Sweeney jerked and fell to his knees next to her, hissing in a sharp breath. Nellie squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away from him, quickening her breath as the pain increased again. But even through her wracked body and ringing ears she still felt Sweeney's coarse hand cup her cheek, clear as a heated iron on her skin. He pushed her face towards him and she opened her eyes, watching his hand as it hovered in front of her and slowly opened. A key fell out, bouncing off her chest, and she saw the red indentation it left in his palm.

"She told me," he said, "she told me everything. You and the Judge-"

"Mr. Todd-!" Nellie tried to gasp, but screamed through another shock of pain.

"You lied to me! My Lucy, shipped off to Bedlam!" Sweeney grabbed her shoulders until his knuckles whitened, but Nellie couldn't discern the new pain from the old. "You handed over my daughter to the Judge yourself!" He shook her and slammed her into the ground until she grew quiet. Then he let her go, and she lay gasping and red-faced before him. It took all of Nellie's strength to control her shuttering breath long enough to speak.

"You don't understand…"

"You deceived me completely," said he.

"But…" Nellie took in a deep breath, "I had to do as the Judge said or he would've hanged me…"

"I'm sure you deserved it."

Nellie tried to keep her voice steady as the next pains came. "Yes, I poisoned my husband, but what else could I do? He was violent, threatened to kill me everyday, and I just wanted to be saved, Mr. Todd. You knew, I know you did; why didn't you save me?"

_She'd dreamed of this man saving her, being the first to show some compassion. Unlike the women who saw her bruises and called her lucky to have a husband who paid her so much attention. She was in constant fear, ready to panic at any moment, jumping at every noise. She finally had a chance to reach out to Benjamin – she'd cried out to him as Albert dragged her back inside, threatening to give her a beating like she'd never known. Benjamin had to have heard her –the dead heard her- but he kept climbing the stairs, without even a twitch of acknowledgement. Her mind shattered right then and there. She didn't even remember the beating, just the back of Benjamin's head, those last steps through the door. _

Sweeney's eyes looked unfocused, like he was remembering, too. Or watching his world crumble by his own hand.

"No," he said.

"The Judge said he wouldn't hang me if I helped him; what else could I do?"

"No!"

"Mr. Todd, I'm-"

But pain caused Nellie's vision to blind from white. She thought it was the baby trying to tear itself out of her, but she finally comprehended the source: Sweeney's razor hacking into her side. Nellie was too terrified to scream, and her vision became a sickly blue. If her body was thrashing or reacting at all she couldn't tell, but the next thing she knew her head was lolling to one side, and she saw her own dark blood pooling and spreading across the ground, like it had spilled from an over turned bucket.

Sweeney's shirt and trousers were streaked with blood, and he was cutting his razor through something – an umbilical cord, as he was holding her infant! From her angle Nellie could tell that it was a girl after all, squalling and bloody, with a full head of dark hair, just as Mara's had been right from the womb. Nellie knew her own body was a gruesome mess, and that she should have been in unbearable pain, but shock kept her from reality as she watched Sweeney holding her daughter – her perfect, living, breathing daughter.

Sweeney didn't move or react, he just stood on his knees holding the infant. Whether his thoughts were loving or hostile, whether he was ready to kill or kiss the child, who would know? For, in the next moment, Mara attacked from behind and knocked Sweeney out with a large board of wood. He collapsed in the blood, the infant shrieking louder as she tumbled onto Sweeney's chest. Mara grabbed the child with one hand, the razor with the other, and jerked the blade into her father's throat. Nellie couldn't see the final slice from where she lay, but Sweeney's jerked convulsion and followed stillness told her enough.

Mara turned, cradling the infant carefully now that the razor was flung down the alley. Her dark auburn hair hung in disarray over her eyes as she wrapped her new half-sister in her coat. She crawled closer to Nellie, her hair hiding the tears until they began streaming down her neck and dripping off her chin.

"Mum…" Mara sobbed.

"Dear." Nellie tried to put all her strength into speaking, but she still managed no more than a whisper. "Let me see her, please…"

Mara crouched very low and let the infant's forehead rest on Nellie's cheek. Somewhere Johanna was wailing softly, almost musically.

"What are you going to name your baby, mum?" Mara asked.

"I-I…" Nellie gasped frantically. Did she have a name? She had to name her child right now, now or not at all, and she couldn't think of anything. She was shaking all over, and her hearing was fading fast, drowned out by a numb ringing. "She's -she…"

"It's alright, mum."

"No, no… name her…"

But her throat was closing up, barely able to let any air through at all. She could no longer speak or hear, and she watched Mara's mouth in an effort to understand what she was saying. She would come back? _To bring help or for my body?_ Nellie wondered. Mara leaned forward to kiss her mother, and then with the child in her arms and urging Johanna to follow her, the girls, all three of them, fled.

It was better that they did, Nellie knew, but she was terribly frightened and alone as she lay paralyzed on the ground. Her head was aligned so that Sweeney's pale face was nearly in the center of her vision, his dead eyes staring at her – had they been open before? Nellie stared back, too terrified to look away, and saw him blink.

_Oh, please, God_, thought Nellie, _don't let him live. _

But he made no other movement, just the blood-shot eyes watching her. They really were beautiful eyes, when you could see the gray.

_I'm…_ Nellie tried to say, but no words came, and she hoped mouthing it would be enough. _I'm so sorry…_

Sweeney didn't acknowledge that he'd understood her, though he probably wasn't able to if he had, and a moment later his eyes shut for good. Nellie decided to follow suit, letting the light overwhelm her vision and finally take her completely.

It was so much better to be nothing at all, she realized, than to be Mrs. Lovett.

(2)

Lucy had witnessed the whole ordeal from behind the ashcans, trying to wait out the screaming and hysterics, but compellingly curious at the same time. She didn't understand the insanities of the sane, and she knew she wasn't like them, no matter how hard she tried to fit in. But she knew some things, and she knew that Mr. Todd struck some thing within her.

Their bodies were still warm when Lucy carefully approached them – him and that horrid Devil woman, their blood flowing out in slow rivers and pooling together as one. She hunched over Mr. Todd, caressing his face, and the shocking familiarity came back to her. Strange memories in disturbing clarity flashed before her- dancing with her husband in the tavern, fixing him supper after a long day, mending his barber's coat, making love as they ignored the screaming of the horrid couple in the shop below.

She stared at her husband's face, her whole mind straining desperately for a bit of precious coherence, until her mouth finally whispered:

"Benjamin…"


	10. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Could there have been more sin in someone's blood? The blood of murder and amorality, deceit, betrayal, conceived on the eve of the most heinous crimes London had known. But it seems to me that the blood of an average Londoner doesn't boast much more purity. My parents were driven to what they did, at least they were in my mind, and from what I can conclude. Nellie especially, who's often declared the more monstrous of the two by the average attendee of the tale. Yes, she was willing to manipulate to any length of get what she desired, but why is that worse than murder or rape? Because she was a woman?

I never knew Johanna or Lillian; Johanna found another sailor to marry soon after escaping Sweeney, and left for who knows where. Lillian went to find relatives in the country, never to return to London. Even if she'd considered taking Mara with her, Lillian refused to have anything to do with me, the demon child. So Mara and Toby were left in the bowels of the city to find shelter for themselves, to find grueling work in a factory and still take care of a baby. My sister lived as honest a life as she could from then on, which meant we were honestly poor. She and Toby raised me in a small apartment, but even when they were both adults they never grew terribly fond of each other. Mara always had unwanted admirers, and she eventually married one to get us out of a nothing life, choosing a well-off lawyer who wanted a pretty little wife to serve him domestically and sexually. And I suppose Mara wanted children of her own so that she could forget me, her disturbing Ella who looks too much like Nellie.

Toby was left with the apartment to himself.

I still think my sister always felt Nellie's influence the strongest within her values, in her independence while she was poor, and the pride of wealth when she was married. There were moments when she would stare off at nothing, even while she was knitting or surrounded by her children, and have a pained look in her eyes. Maybe she was feeling loss, or maybe she was hoping to God that someday Nellie's desires would stop pulling her apart inside.

I don't think many have ever actually trusted me, at least not completely, as though they could tell what evil was supposedly running through my veins. I may have my mother's disturbing eyes and my father's dark, coarse hair, but if I inherited their evils, who could know? Perhaps they're lying dormant, and will come forth when they're needed.

When the world deserves it once again.

_And thus, an Ending to what came before._


End file.
